


Twelve Men Down

by speakingofalice



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Depression, Happy Ending, Hurt!Jim, Hurt/Comfort, Jenks wants to help, Jim has seen war okay, Leonard wants to make it better, M/M, Missing Limbs, Missing in Action, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, War, but its going to take a while to get there, protective!everyone else
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-18
Updated: 2015-05-23
Packaged: 2018-02-26 04:53:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 24,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2638772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/speakingofalice/pseuds/speakingofalice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is a time for many words and there is a time for silence.</p><p>or</p><p>The one in which Jim is a man who has seen war and has come back home broken and Leonard is the man who helps him put the pieces back together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Anger

The bar was a grimy place with sticky tables and squeaky chairs that groaned when new weight pressed down but held steady and strong, given their age. The bar keep working currently was a surprisingly younger man who filled customers drinks with quick fingers and no words uttered unless strictly necessary. All around the bar were men with beers in hand and woman in short dresses or shorts tight around their hips. It wasn't too loud in the place but loud enough to drown out any one persons’ conversation, which was good according to the blonde haired man sitting near the back at the bar. 

His shoulders were slumped at an angle that hurt his back with his elbows sticking to the old wood of the bar. Around the man's neck, barely visible to those just passing by hung a par of tags that clinked against one another every so often. To anyone else the sound of the clinking tags would be annoying, bothersome, but to the man it was comforting. The sound felt normal and whole, like an old friend. In front of him sat a beer half gone with no label stretched around its circumference. The label lay in tatters to the right of the man as he absently played with the thin pieces he'd torn off while too deep in thought to comprehend his hands absentminded movement. 

A deep ache beat in tune with his heart from his leg sending painful messages to his brain telling him it was time for another round of meds. It throbbed but the man ignored it, just like he always did when the familiar pain would flare up. It wasn't too bad right now, the alcohol already running through his system numbing it down just like the aches in his back.

The man arched his spine as much as the brace that was hidden under his shirt and jacket would allow. He breathed deep until he heard his back crack slightly then settled back down into the uncomfortable position. It was nice to somewhat slouch on the barstool, a pleasure he hadn't been given in years. He'd been trained to have his back pin straight and posture even with legs apart and slightly bent to ensure blood flow. Eyes forward, shoulders back, hands clasped securely and face neutral. The perfect position for the perfect soldier.

"You want another one, Cap?" questioned another barmen from across the sodden bar. This man was older, greying hair and skinny but still having the outline of muscle hollowed under his shirt sleeves. A leathery and faded tattoo peaked out from behind his left shirt sleeve coming from the middle of his shoulder. Only the bottom remnants of an anchor with an eagles tail feathers leaked from his shoulder. Though it was fading the old man still wore it with the same amount of pride he did when he was a stupid teenager thinking he could live forever.

James Kirk looked up from his beer and tattered label with a sad smile. His blue eyes were dulled by the dark lighting and exhausted lines surrounding them but still they sparkled somewhat looking at the old man. He ran his fingers through his longer than he was used to hair then brought his hand to the back of his neck looking back down at the sticky bar.

"Come on Jenks, it's just Jim now. No more Captain bullshit." He said softly only meant for the man to hear him and no one else.

"I don't care what ya say you'll always be a Captain to me. You earned the title, son. Be proud of it." Then the old man with leathery skin and worn Marines anchor and eagle tattooed on his shoulder bent down to retrieve two shot glasses. The set them both down with a clink then reached up on the top shelf for the good liquor. Across the bar the other barman said nothing but rolled his eyes as a larger woman who had been trying to get a free drink for a while now leaned across the bar to flash or overly exposed breasts. Jenks poured a worthy amount of clear liquid into both shot glasses even after Jim's protests.

"You know I don't have the cash for the top shelf man."

"From one soldier to another," Jenks set the shot in front of Jim with a clink. Jim opened his mouth for further protest but stopped when the old man looked down at him with cloudy grey eyes. Jim straightened from his slouched position then grabbed his glass and held it up.

Jenks, a man far too old to be doing shots with a twenty-three year old veteran looked Jim in the eye. "To those we left behind."

Jim froze for a moment with memories too clear and too soon engulfing his mind. He gulped audibly before nodding and throwing back the expensive liquor.

"How's the leg?" Jenks asked putting away the glasses and taking Jim's half gone warm bottle to replace with a new one so cold frost gathered on the sides. Again Jim opened his mouth to prost but stopped afer Jenks leveled him a glare his mother would have been proud of. Instead Jim closed his mouth and stared at the bottle itching to peel off the label.

"It comes and it goes." He shrugged not wanted to speak of the ghost pains that crawl up his leg and wrap around his back at the most odd times or the very real pains that engulf the sides of his body and leave him shaking and withering on the ground.

"It'll get better lad, don't worry."

Jim smiled shyly up at the man whom he had met not that long ago, after he'd come back to the states. He'd been angry and hurt with a heart blackened by combat and a soul buried so deep under mistrust and fear that he couldn't even stand being home. He couldn't take his mother’s sad blue eyes that stared at him with so much pity it boiled his blood, searing his insides. 

\---

The glass had slid off the counter by accident, a slight brush of the back of his mother’s hand and it was over the edge falling and shattering on the ground splaying into sharp, jagged pieces. Jim jerked in his seat convinced it wasn't a glass that but a bomb. The glass had shattered like windows contorting and breaking with the force of the blasts that ripped limbs from bodies and tore faces to shreds. Suddenly Jim couldn't see, couldn't breathe, he couldn't feel anything but pain. It boiled in his chest, stung like a thousand wasps. Metal bands wrapped around his chest and torso, he coughed to try to dispel them but they didn't move. Jim tried to curl in on himself to protect his body but his leg, his leg hurt so badly and his back wouldn't move not matter how hard he tried to force it to. Some animal was sinking its teeth just below his knee and racking them down his leg. There were gunshots peppering the ground in places that Jim couldn't see. Shouting assaulted his ears making him grip at them harshly digging his nails into the sides of his head. Distantly he knew that something wrong, that this wasn't real but he didn't have control over his thoughts. His body reacted while his mind was in turmoil lashing out at that which moved while trying to huddle closer to himself for protection. Hands tried to touch him were just as quickly gone as Jim whimpered brokenly.

It felt like hours but it must have only been minutes later when he finally came back into himself. Tears tracks stained his cheeks, he could feel them cooling as his eyes unclouded. He jerked his head around surprised to find himself on the floor. His mother also sat of the floor holding onto side of her face gingerly. Where she touched blossomed red under her pale fingers. She stared at him in a mixture of pity and fright.

"Mom?" He whispered realizing what he had just done, that he had just hit his mother.

"Jimmy... You didn't mean to..." She choked on a sob and it was all Jim could do to hold himself back, to not rush to her. He had caused this. He had hurt her. He was a monster. Gritting his teeth and ignoring the tears that ran from his eyes Jim hauled himself up and bit back a groan as his back pulled under the brace. With all the might he had Jim limped to the front door ignoring the jacket that hung on the banister. He angrily grabbed for his keys and slammed the door open then closed with a yell from his mother begging him to wait. He limped to his bike, fire burning his insides and threw his useless leg over the seat. By the time his mother could get outside he was already speeding down their dirt driveway kicking up dust and rocks.

"Jim!"

Jim screamed when he hit a bump jarring his back. He shouldn't be on a bike yet, the doctors had said to wait at least another month or two but he felt trapped. He felt like an animal. A monster locked in a cage built too small for his frame. Jim gunned the throttle harder when he reached the main road. He had nowhere to go and all night to get there.  
The wind blew into his ears loudly but it wasn't loud enough, he could still hear his friends voices, their screams of pain, their laughs and jokes. He could still see the soldiers he'd fought with as if they were right next to him, as if he was back there in that dessert hellhole. It hurt to think of his men and how much he'd failed them. Tears flew down his face then were whipped off with the wind. He hadn't grabbed a helmet when he'd stormed out of his mother’s house. Just another stupid thing to add to the list.

It was hours later that Jim finally couldn’t take it any longer. His back, which he had been trying his best to ignore flared with a pain that got worse with every mile he went. His arms were numb along with his face and fingers. Only his right leg still bore feeling and Jim wished it didn't. He wished so hard that he could go back to that moment when the IED had blown. Every minute of every day since he'd woken up in the hospital he'd wished his leg didn't hurt with phantom pain and his back didn't burn with every movement.  
A voice that sounded discreetly like Christopher Pike whispered in his ear that he should go home. It was time to take his medicine and apologize to his mother.

 _Sleep Jim, it's time to sleep._ Pike had said those same words so long ago. It felt like years but there's no way it had been years since the explosion.

 _Pull over,_ the voice begged. _Please._

Jim looked up from the road he was speeding on to see that he wasn't that far from his home. He was just on the outskirts of Riverside. Jim turned his bike for home finally feeling the chill and aches in his body and wanting nothing else than to close his eyes and sleep when he saw a bright neon sign advertising for a bar that he could remember being there since before he was even born. He's never gone in and not for lack of trying either. The man who ran the place could see a fake ID a mile out and that coupled with the silent guy who worked in there Jim never took his chances on getting caught. He used to stay to the lessor, more backwoods bars where he could flash his fake card or twinkle his pretty eyes to get people to buy him drinks.

But that was before. That was when he was just a child and hadn't known war. That was back when he was still a stupid little boy whose biggest worry was getting caught drunk out late at night and being dragged home by the cops to get his ass beat by Frank. Now though, Jim didn't have to worry about underage drinking or abusive step fathers. Now his mouth watered at the thought of a good malt whisky burning his throat and a couple of beers making him shit faced to the wind. Forgetting everything that he couldn't force from his mind while trying to drink himself into a stupor. Maybe he could get someone to take him home, have a good time with him and then dump him like the trash he is. But then Jim shivered as he thought of his leg. He wasn't really a whole man anymore, he couldn't please anyone the way he used to. He'd never be able to be loved or make it anymore. No one would love someone missing more than half of their leg and had more scars hidden under their clothes than actual healed skin.

Jim brought his bike to a stop and flipped the ignition letting it sputter until it died. He looked at the watch he'd kept that the army had given him and sighed. It was well passed two in the morning. Jim carefully, slowly and painfully dismounted the bike and limped inside swaying with each step. To any other person it would seem that he was already drunk.

When he got inside Jim breathed a breath of relief. There wasn’t many people in the place and he spied a prime seat near the end of the bar that was just enough out of the way that he could go unnoticed. He limped and swayed towards the bar stool not meeting any one persons gaze. When he finally made it to the stool he all but collapsed into it with a groan of pain. His back protested the seat but again he ignored it.

It only took a few minutes for an older looking skinny man working behind the bar to come over to him. Jim stared at the sticky bar too lost in thought to notice the man.

"If you don't give me your name then it seems I'm just gonna hav'ta make one up for you, son." Jim was startled out of his thoughts by the man. He looked up to glare at him blankly hoping the guy would just ask for his order and leave. Jim was tired to fight him and too hurt to argue. The old man shrugged, "You look like a Chris to me."

“What?” Jim asked feeling stupid. What was this man talking about?

“Yer name. What is it?” The old man’s lips quirked up on the side.

"Jim." Jim finally said after the man stared at him with his full grey eyes for too long. A full smile bloomed across the man's face. He flipped the towel up to his shoulder nodding.

"Why hello Jim, my name is Thaddeus Jenkens but folks round here call me Jenks."

Jim shuttered thinking about how _he_ used to be one of those people inside that categorization of 'folks round here' but he'd been gone for years. Long years, Jim had never even met this man before so it wasn’t a wonder he didn't know who Jim was. Jim wrapped his arms around himself feeling the metal plating and thin bars of his brace through his thin t-shirt. He stayed silent, shivering, waiting for this man to ask him his order or to leave. Either was fine with Jim.

It took longer than Jim had expected but finally the man asked, "What'll ya have?"

"Beer." Jim answered shortly completely ready to feel the alcohol slosh through his empty stomach inhabiting his frayed senses with bad ideas. He was ready to forget in the ways he wasn't allowed to sober. He wanted to forget the sounds of men screaming for God or their mothers or crying for forgiveness. He wanted to stop the smell of burnt flesh that wafted off his skin at the oddest times even though he hadn't even been burned that badly. He wasn't allowed alcohol with his meds but he hadn't taken any tonight, he'd been just about to right before he'd hit his mother. "And add on a couple of shots. Whisky. Straight up."

Jenks nodded then turned his back on Jim before walking through a door behind the bar. Jim leaned heavily on the old wood shivering violently and frowning. His body yelled at him demanding to take the medicine he usually would have already taken by now but he ignored it. He ignored the way his leg and back throbbed and his joints protested with each movement. His head hurt too, just another thing to add to that list.  
Across from Jim was the silent boy still working to pour drinks. He expertly flipped the glasses, filled them, then handed them out to the waiting patron and moved on to the next person. Jim continued to stare at his thumbs and the chips in the wood. He was content to just sit there in peace letting his mind fester with the usual thoughts when he heard a commotion from the other side of the bar.

"You dumbass what the fuck is'dis?" demanded a large man pointing to his drink, his words slurring together obviously he was on his way to being drunk. The boy behind the counter looked at the man then to the drink and shrugged, his curly hair bouncing as he did, then he turned to help someone else.  
"You little shit!"

It happened to fast Jim wasn't sure who moved first. The man threw his glass at the bar where is shattered in a mess of liquid and liquor then he lunged at the silent boy. Almost at the same time Jim let the instincts that were ingrained in his system take over his body. He was up, across the bar and pulling the large man off of the boy before his mind realized what he was doing. He had the man by the collar of his shirt forcing him away from the boy when he stumbled slightly not being in control of his leg. It only served as an advantage however as his weight went straight into the man's stomach knocking the wind out of him. The man snarled at him but Jim only stared back with eyes he'd trained to look hard and cold. He knew his blue eyes looked like ice in this low lighting. His soldiers always said he looked like the meanest son of a bitch when he got angry.  
The burly man clenched his fist at his side.

"Do it," Jim hissed lowly all pain forgotten as adrenaline filled his veins. The man must have seen something in Jim’s eyes because his own widened in surprise. He slowly put his hands up but Jim wasn't finished. He had too much anger built up and nowhere to put it, no one to direct it to. He wanted to rip this man apart, kill him like he'd almost been killed. His own fists clenched itching, aching for a fight, but movement from his right brought him up short. It was the boy bartender. He had placed a hand on his shoulder lightly as to not spook him but to get his attention. He slowly shook his head with his mouth clamped shut but eyes so big and pupils wide like a puppy begging for food.

Jim looked at the arm on his shoulder then at the scared man in his hands. He growled feeling his back twinge with the weird angle he was at. Jim shoved the man backwards staring him down with ice blue eyes. The guy fixed his jacket roughly, gaze not leaving Jim but backed away from him. Jim stared at him until the man left the bar then turned back to his seat and sat down heavily.  Jim heard a clink near his chest that he was so used to he almost let it go until he heard it again. Looking down Jim cursed himself grabbing at his dog tags and shoving them back under his shirt through his collar. He wasn't even in the army anymore so technically he shouldn't be wearing the tags but he couldn't take them off, he didn't have the heart or the strength to. It was just pieces of metal on chain but to him it meant so much more.  A mug was sat in front of him with a thud. Jim looked down at it with a scowl taking in the steaming brown liquid that was defiantly not a beer or shot of whisky.

"What the hell is this?" He demanded laying his hands on the sticky bar eyeing the mug with disgust.

Jenks stood opposite "That is hot chocolate. My mamma's recipe."

"I ordered a beer." Jim seethed still glaring at the cup hoping to make it shatter or spontaneously combust, either was fine with him. No longer did his hands tremble, now they were full out shaking along with the base of his spine. His entire body, in fact, shook.

"And I gave you hot chocolate. Drink it son, it'll warm you up. You don't need a beer right now." The way Jenks looked at him made Jim turn his head down to stop the man from seeing the way his eyes clouded. Tears threatened violently in the corners even as he fought them back. If Jim didn't know any better he'd think this man was Pike who had sat down with him after the first time he'd killed a man in combat.

 _Drink some water son, it'll help a hell of a lot more than a beer. Trust me._  
But this wasn't Pike. Pike was dead and buried in some grave in Arlington after a service Jim hadn't been allowed to attend. He was too busy being unconscious and he suppose they didn't want to wait until he woke up before they gave the twenty-one gun salute.

Jim swallowed hard and rubbed at his eyes drying any stray tears that tried to fall. He nodded picking up the cup with a trembling hand. The mug shook violently forcing Jim to grab onto it with both hands. He took a small sip not trusting his body fully. Too many things had been thrown up recently for him to trust his stomach. The doctors said throwing up could be a side effect of the medicine but Jim hadn't taken any tonight so he should be fine. He took a tentative sip of the warm liquid. It was hot and sweet on his tongue so he took another, larger sip. The hot chocolate slid down his throat and into his stomach nicely. Jim sighed in content taking another drink of the hot liquid as it warmed his insides.

"A secret between the two of us Jim, I knew who you were when you walked in here. Everyone ‘round here knows you. You used to be quite the little shit when you was young but now yer a good fellow. A right good one."

Jim looked away from the man feeling his face redden and throat grow tight. He wasn't a good man no matter what anyone told him. He was a killer. A soldier who murdered. He wasn't even a full man anymore. He was a burden, half a man. A cyborg with no leg and a messed up back. Too many scars. Too many nightmares.  
"I would say thank you for your service but you don't want me to just as soon as I don't want you thankin' me so I'm gonna tell you to get on home and when you come back they'll be a nice cold beer or two waiting here for you, Captain."

Jim's throat was so tight it was a wonder he could even breathe. His hands shook slightly more than usual and he could feel the tears stinging his swollen eyes once more. He nodded mutely not being able to put his thoughts into words. This kindness, he felt like he didn't deserve it but also that this man was so like the man he'd served under. The man that had saved his life. He reminded him of Pike.

Jim ran his shaky fingers through his hair and nodded again putting his weight on the bar to help himself up. Once he gained his footing he wavered slightly, not used to the prosthetic. Jim grabbed at the bar again seeing stars dance in his eyes in intricate patterns making him dizzy. Jim wavered violently and would have fallen if Jenks silent companion hadn't suddenly appeared at his side. His hands slid around Jim's torso softly but forceful enough to catch him before he fell.

"On second thought why don't I get someone to help us home," Jenks disappeared from behind the bar as the silent man helped Jim sit on one of the stools. Jim's face flushed so red with embarrassment it burned his eyes. He flicked his eyes around to look at the bar then let out a breath when he realized he was the only patron left.  
"Pavel?" Jenks through what looked to be keys at the boy. The boy, Pavel nodded then disappeared out the door.

“He’ll take you home Captain.” Jim nodded feeling sick to his stomach. It wasn’t ten minutes later that Jim had said goodbye to Jenks with the promise of coming back soon for a real drink and was having warm air blown on him from Pavel’s heater.

"Sank you Keptin, for helping me with that man earlier."

"So you do talk," Jim smiled though his eyes were shut and he could feel himself falling.

"Da, but people make fun of me so I do not speak often when I am at vork."

“I think you have a cool accent,” Jim said before drifting off.

\---

The anger was still there and it still burned but the fire wasn't quite so hot, more easily managed. The fear also lingered in the backs of his mind and body making him jump and try to hide in fear but it wasn't as prominate as when he'd first come home. He told his mother and the councilors he was ordered to see that he was getting better and maybe he was. He’d only been home for a grand total of three months but he felt like he’d made a lot of progress in such a short time. He’d said as much to the therapist and she had sighed softly as shook her head then told him it was because he hadn’t gone out and done anything much since coming home.

“What are you thinking about Cap?” asked Jenks from across from him running through the drinks on his shelf. Jim shrugged staring at his drink that he hadn’t touched since the man had set it in front of him. Jenks sighed and turned towards the captain. “You keep stuff bottled up it ain’t gonna help with the whole healin’ aspect, ya know?”

Jim nodded and said slowly, “My… therapist, she thinks that I need to go out and do things.”

“Like get a job?”

Jim shook his head, “No, not yet anyways but going out with people and not being alone all the time, I guess.”

“That’s doesn’t sound too out there,” Jenks commented huffing his breath on a glass to get a shine. Jim shook his head hard before he stopped when the room began to spin.

“No… no I don’t know… I mean, here is fine. I know you and I know Pav and I know where the exits are and I don’t go home with anyone and I sure as shit don’t bring anyone home with me but if… if I…” Redness brightened Jim’s face and the back of his neck in anger. He couldn’t get his words out the way he wanted them to. He didn’t want to go out, he didn’t want to make any new friends or rekindle the bridges he burned with the old ones.

“Why don’t ya wanna go out and get some friends, Jimmy?

“Because they might die too.” Jim froze as the words left his mouth. He sucked in a breath, tears came to his eyes while his hand fell away from where it had sat on the bar. He hadn’t meant to say those words aloud, or ever. They were supposed to stay hidden away in his mind until he was ready to deal with them. The last friends he had were killed because of him, he wasn’t about to make more. 

Suddenly the dark bar morphed in front of his eyes. The flint of the polished glasses became the glints of guns. The chatter that had begun to die out around the bar became his men screaming.

_“Medic! Medic! Someone, anyone! Please… We need a medic down here now!”_

A hard hand on his arm pulled Jim from the flashback roughly. Jim jerked away hard without meaning to. His breath came quick with sweat slicking his forehead.

“That ain’t no way to live Jimmy.” 

Jim nodded feeling exhausted and embarrassed, he hadn’t had a flashback all week.

“Pavel! Why don’t you go grab your car?” Jenks yelled down to the curly haired boy who was scrubbing glasses in the sink. Pavel nodded and left without a word. Jim leveled a glare at the old man before mumbling under his breath about how he could take care of himself. 

“It’s cold, you’re obviously tired and Winona would never forgive me if I let you drive home right now.” Jenks smiled down at Jim as he held his hand up with his middle finger flying high.

Jim tried to roll his eyes but stopped when the bar started to fade in and out of focus. He shook his head and took three long blinks before leaning all of his strength on his arms to heave himself to his feet. The change in position made his head spin again and he wavered on his feet somewhat before gaining his balance. Maybe he was more tired than he’d thought. 

“See ya later son,” called Jenks as Jim limped violently to the door. Even though he was away from the man Jim could still feel not only his eyes but the eyes of the few patrons left in the bar on his back. By this point everyone around this small town knew who he was and what had happened to him and it was a little annoying the amount of help he’d been offered. From the news crews that wanted the inside scoop to the neighbors who lived miles down the road, even his high school teachers who he could remember hating his guts came by to offer him their gratitude and just talk. It was annoying and angering. Most of the time Jim didn’t even answer the door anymore. 

Once outside Jim leaned against the side of the building waiting for Pavel and his little car he was sure would break down any day now. The cold air bit at his arms and leg making the prosthetic even more unbearable where it touched the remaining parts of his leg. Jim knew he should have been using the crutches or even his wheel chair to get around and not put so much weight on the injured side but he wasn’t about to crutch around or worse, get wheeled around. The cane had been the next best thing but again that showed weakness and Jim already showed enough of that. 

Pavel pulled up his car where Jim leaved heavily against the side of the building then got out to open his door for him. Jim rolled his eyes before limping towards the car. 

"Want to dust off my seat as well?" He muttered under his breath. "Maybe kiss my forehead and tell me a bedtime story?" 

Pavel said nothing as he closed Jim's door and got back in on the driver’s side. The ride back to the Kirk farmhouse was quiet as soft tones played over the radio. It was soothing watching the fields roll by one by one until they meshed together in a stream of muted colors and darkness. The clock on Pavel's car read _1:57 am_ brightly illuminating part of the boy’s face and hands as he navigated towards Jim's house. 

"You said zat zey think it is good idea to have friends?" Pavel said suddenly jarring Jim out of the lull that the passing fields had put him into. He looked over at the boy he knew was barely old enough to drive let alone be serving alcohol but didn't say anything. His throat closed against his voice as he tried to find the right words for the curly haired boy. 

Pavel chanced a glance at the older man. "You need friends, Jim." 

"I don't want any friends Pav," Jim sighed looking away so the boy couldn't see his glistening eyes. Jim didn't want, didn't _need_ any friends. He was doing perfectly well with it just being him and his mother - even though she worked all the time, it seemed. And besides, he did have some friends. Jenks was his friend and Pavel seemed to like him. In hindsight, that's really all he needed. 

Pavel said nothing else as he guided his car into Jim's long driveway. They car bounced and bumped along the dirt road making the tags around Jim's neck clink loudly while his teeth clicked roughly. As soon as his leg would let him, Jim promised himself, he was going to get some people in to pave the driveway. 

The car stopped right in front of the old farmhouse. Pavel was out of his side and opening Jim's door faster than the man could get his seat belt off. Jim laid his head back on the warm seat then rolled it sideways while staring at the boy, an annoyed expression washing over his face. Smartly, Pavel backed up resisting the urge to help Jim from the car. Jim grasped the sides of the small car with both hands and counted to three before heaving himself out. His vision swam momentarily when he stood but he shook his head to get himself together before putting weight on his bad leg. Pavel walked with Jim up to his house silently and slowly keeping the wounded mans pace. 

"I vill be here to pick you up at six o'clock tomorrow night." Pavel said when Jim reached for the handle of the door. 

"Why?" He asked fishing his keys from his pocket when he realized the door was locked. It was strange, Jim thought, the door being locked. He had requested to his mother that the once always unlocked door be locked even if there was someone home. But it was still weird having to use his house keys. 

Without missing a beat Pavel squared his shoulders and crossed his arms. "You are going to dinner with me and some of my friends." 

Jim sighed heavily leaning his warm forehead against the door. "Pav I really don't think that's a good-"

"Nyet! No excuses. You vill like zem, I promise." Then he turned and left without another word leaving Jim to open the door and stare at the boy with a mouth half open. Not only did Jim not hear the boy ever talk this much but he had never heard so much determination in his voice.

"I vill see you tomorrow Jim!" And with that he was in his car and backing down the long driveway.  

Closing the door behind him and walking over to sink into the couch Jim muttered curses under his breath. Jim reclined on the couch content to just sit there and wait for his mother to get off shift from her work and come home. Slowly his eyes started to close and he ignored the things he knew he had to do like take his prosthetic off and remove his jacket and shoes. Without much thought Jim drifted off to a sleep. He hoped it wasn't filled with any nightmares. 

 


	2. For Here I Fight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From here on out we will be going back and forth between Jim's time in Afghanistan and present day Iowa.

_Afghanistan_

It was hot, so very _very_ hot with the sun beating down seeming to fry any skin that lay exposed on his neck and arms. Jim tried to uncurl his sleeves to keep his arms from getting burnt but the sweat that dripped from his face and down his back when he had his sleeves down made it uncomfortable. Instead, Jim pushed his camo flappy hat down farther on his head and stared straight trying to save the skin on his neck. The gravel crunched under his heavy boots while the black M-16 rifle dully hit his backside and upper leg. As soon as the gravel had started it quickly turned to sand that spit up with every step he took. The Kevlar body armor jacket weighed his shoulders down. The weight, once heavy and pain inducing to his shoulders, was now a comfortable feel across his back. It meant safety and gave him security.

Absently Jim waved at a pair of soldiers he passed – Sergeants Neal and O'Callahand – and nodded to them. Both men had been good on the mission they’d just gotten off of with Neal being the driver and O’Callahand holding strong up in the gun torrent while Jim commanded from the passenger seat of their Humvee. It had been long and they had taken enemy fire on both their right side and left during the drive from Kandahar and down the Helvance Provence. For three days he had been with those men held up in the armored truck and Jim figured they now held a comradery together only achieved by combat.

"Sir," O'Callahand said before both of them brought their hands up in a trimmed solute without stopping their walk. Jim brought his hand up and snapped the same solute back before they passed. Jim shook his head at them and chuckled to himself thinking about all the times he told his men that they didn't need to address him so formally outside of Command Headquarters. He was only a Second Lieutenant but his men were loyal through and through. Jim figured it was the battles they had fought and the skirmishes they had lived through. On all of his missions Jim had commanded he had never lost a man. There had been injuries – there would always be in war – but he had never lost any of his men. And that wasn't a fact Jim took lightly.

More dirt was kicked up as Jim leisurely made his way towards the plywood storage containers that had been made to live and sleep in for the short period of time his company was stationed at Camp Greyback. It was better than the tents he had lived in for a few weeks at the beginning of his tour but the plywood structures would never really feel like home.

Sand bit at Jim's cheeks as he opened the door to his shared quarters and stepped inside. Compared to the outside sunlight the room was dark and it took a moment or two before his eyes could adjust. When they did he swiftly heaved the strap of his gun off his shoulders and then started unvelcrowing his Kevlar jacket. Once done he took one arm out and pushed it off of his body without the usual grunt that followed. Now mostly completely free from the heavy equipment that weighed him down, Jim walked through his small quarters and towards his top bunk bed. Looking over at the other bunk he noticed it was empty and he shook his head. His roommates were probably out getting the dinner that Jim had decided to skip.

With more effort than he thought it should have taken, Jim climbed into his bunk remembering at the last minute that he still had his boots tied to his feet. When he was laid down he brought one foot up and untied his boot and threw it on the floor then quickly disposed of the other in a similar manner. Usually Jim would lay them nearly side by side by his locker and clean his gun before going to bed but Jim didn't feel like it. He'd just gotten off of a three day mission that hadn't allotted a lot of time for sleep and so he was rightfully exhausted. Silently he thanked his Commanding Officer that he wasn’t on call tonight.

The sun was still out and the sand still hot but he was so tired, the headache that had started last night still had not stopped thrumming in his head making it hurt. Still dressed in his uniform pants and undershirt Jim closed his eyes and tried to drift off to the sounds of an alive camp outside his little living space.

\---

It felt like only a few minutes later that the curtain door to his room was shoved aside and the light switched on brightly. Jim whimpered in what he hoped was a very manly way and shoved the blankets over his head. His eyes felt heavy and his head still hurt.

"Found him!" Someone that sounded distinctly like one of his friend’s yelled making Jim want to crawl deeper into the warm confines of his rack or punch the man in the face. Both sounded good to Jim.

"Kirk! Why the hell are you in bed?" Another voice yelled from the doorway and Jim couldn't pretend to be asleep anymore. Regretting every second of it, Jim slowly pulled back his blankets and looked around the room with bleary eyes. His three roommates stood around the room with a few other guys already sitting in the main area. He heard laughing and the sound of their small TV turning on.

"Can't a guy get some sleep around here?" Jim mumbled. "Come on, I just got off a run." He finished referring to the mission.

The man closest to the door nodded his head with his hands clasped firmly behind his pin straight back. "That is understandable however Captain Pike wants to speak with you and could not find you. We were told by him to ascertain your location and if need be drag you to his office."

Jim stared at the dark haired man blinking slowly. "You know Spock, I could listen to you talk all day long."

"I can't," Master Sergeant Adam Hendorff huffed taking off his gun and starting to undo his own Kevlar. "You sound like a robot, man."

Spock turned to look at his bunk mate with his lips pursed slightly. "As you have just said that I sound like a robot then continuing to call me _man_ would be an oxymoronic sentence."

The end of Jim's bed dipped as Jim's bottom bunkmate jumped on his rack. The wooden structure creaked as Sergeant First Class Gary Mitchell leaned back with his head against the side of the wall.

"Do they have to argue every day?" Mitchell whispered as Spock and Hendorff continued to go at it. Jim sighed and laid back not wanting to get up. He could feel sand and grit in his eyes and at the edges of his mouth as well as itchy sand between his chest and shirt. It was uncomfortable but he didn’t complain. One cold shower and some aspirin and he’d be golden.

"You alright, dude?" Mitchell asked. Jim could hear Spock suddenly go silent and the room went quiet.

"Fine," Jim said looking up at the plywood and metal ceiling. Suddenly a hand was touching his forehead and Jim jerked back and the touch. Spock was right next to him with his head tilted to the side in annoyance.

"You do feel warm Captain, perhaps you are becoming ill."

Jim shook his head and sat up untangling his legs and feet from the blankets and sleeping bag he'd wrapped himself up in. "Just been a long day Commander."

Mitchel rubs at his recently shaved head. "Why do you two do that all the time?"

Another man, peaks his head into the small already crowded room. Weapons Specialist Grant Olson throws a package towards Jim who catches it with learned skill before it can fall to the ground. The package is heavy on his hands and when Jim touches the edges he can hear a crinkle inside. A package from his mother most likely. The Specialist then leans against the door crossing his arms. Jim smiles down at the package thinking about now nice it was nice not recognizing anyone’s rank in his quarters or while not on duty. It was always messy business trying to remember that he was a high rank and some of his friends were lower. Here it didn’t matter however and they could all just be themselves, like boot camp when they were the worst of the worst – the bottom of the food chain. When they were on call or on a mission then the familiarity was forgotten and the professional aspect was respected but that wasn’t now and Jim was happy for it.

"Why does who do what now?" Olson questions leaning hard against the wall with his army jacket only half unzipped letting the fan that blew in the corner waft air into his chest.

Jim looks over at Olson while Hendorff rolls his eyes. "It's just a thing they do,” Hendorff huffs in a bored voice as if he'd said it a thousand times, which he had. “Started when they were at basic together, don't ask them why because neither of them ever explain."

Spock neatly unzips his jacket then sits on his bottom rack and begins to undo the laces of his boots. "There is no reason that directly pertains to you but if there ever is I will be sure to explain our reasoning."

Everyone is silent for only a second before Hendorff pulls off one of his socks and heaves it at Spock's face hitting him square on the forehead to which he doesn’t even blink. Just stares at the man with his head tilted and an annoyed expression.

Hendorff throws his hands in the air. "See? A damn robot!"

Olson shakes his head and laughs along with the rest of the men. Jim tries in vain to hide his smile with the back of his hand while pretending to rub his nose. Often times Spock preaches discipline and regulations often quoting from the Military Code of Conduct book verbatim but right now they were off duty and the Second Lieutenant was lax around his men.

Olson leans forward, “You see the Brits that came in last night? They brought a few of their Warhogs –”

“No way! Those things are massive,” Hendorff shakes his head.

“Yeah but don’t get too close ‘cause those bloody Brits will start yellin’ at ya to back away or something, I don’t know.” Olson laughed. “I can’t ever understand ‘em when they start yelling’, the brutes.”

“Forgive me, Sergeant Olson,” Spock began bringing another eye roll from Hendorff. “But aren’t you yourself from Great Brittan?”

Olson nodded before standing back up and tapping on his chest. “Aye I lived there a few years but I was born on American soil and so for here I fight.”

“How poetic,” Mitchell snickered.

“Shove it up your ass, Mitchell,” Olson bit back with no malice.

“Get bent Olson,” Mitchell laughed throwing Jim’s small basketball at him. Olson ducked the ball and laughed as it rolled into the other room.

Olson, all five feet seven inches of him, threw his hand up to his forehead and swooned dramatically. “The words you speak doth wound me, my friend!”

Jim laughed at that as the chubby man grabbed at his heart and sank to the floor. “You guys are idiots.”

“Dude,” Mitchell begins but stops as another man walks into the room. He is in the process of taking off his helmet but had already removed his gun and body armor. Strangely however, is the shorts that ride high on the boy’s legs. They’re short and black, running shorts.

The man is sandy haired and baby faced with brown eyes and couldn’t be a day older than eighteen. He comes over to Jim holding a file in hand and salutes.

 _Yep_ , Jim thinks, _defiantly a new guy._

Jim snaps a salute to the man who looks like a boy. The boy hands the file of papers to Jim. “Corporal Lance Meede from Tiffin Ohio, sir. Major Archer assigned me to you to help with your paperwork.”

“Say it ain’t so Jim, say it ain’t so!” Mitchell grabs at Jim and shakes him hard. Jim tries to chuckle but the shaking makes his headache worse and his stomach feel even more nauseated. He pushes Mitchell off of him. “Please tell me you didn’t just get assigned a man servant wearing boot camp shorts!”

The boy huffs opening and closing his mouth, stuttering. Jim juts his arm out to punch the man sitting next to him before turning back to the boy and holding out his hand to shake. “First Lieutenant James T. Kirk from Riverside Iowa, nice to meet you. I still need to write down the mission report from the yesterday but once that’s done I’ll get it to you in no time.”

Meede nods dropping his hand from Jim’s strong grip. He looks a little star struck as his gaze lingers for just a moment too long on Jim’s face. The bright lights of the room make Meede’s brown eyes glisten in amazement.

“Anything else, Corporal?”

The boy stumbles on his words again, “N-No sir. It will be an honor working with you.”

Jim offers his hand again in goodbye. “Likewise.”

By the time the boy is gone and Jim tucks away the file of papers he needs to fill out Mitchell is in tears laughing and yelling about how Jim has a new admirer and one man fan club. Hendorff and Olson laugh along with him but Spock just lounges back on his rack brining up a well-worn paperback book that looks suspiciously like one of Jim’s that his mother sent him.

"How was the mission?" Hendorff questions Jim after everyone is calmed down and Olson goes back into the other room. Jim just shrugs.

"Same shit different day."

Mitchell chuckles and shakes his head before grabbing one of Jim's trinkets from the shelf by his bed and playing with it in his hands. Jim jumps from his bunk and onto the ground, "You said the Captain wanted me?"

"Affirmative. I shall join you." Spock says setting his book aside and sliding his feet back into his boots just as Jim does. Together they both strap back on their bullet proof Kevlar and drape their guns across their shoulders by the straps. They both automatically check their guns and the gear attached to their body armor silently. That done the two men step out onto the sandy ground.

It was cold now that the sun wasn't blazing hot and Jim shivered savoring the coolness on his damp sweaty skin. Lights around the camp are lit bright and shining making it almost appear like it was daylight outside.

"Maybe you should look into seeing Doctor Boyce. You look flushed Jim," Spock said after a minute of comfortable silence. Jim looks over at one of his best friends and smiles.

"Awe Spockie, are you worried about me?" His puffs out his cheek and leans against the man while still walking. Spock looked at him with an unimpressed expression before shaking his head and closing his eyes, no doubt to roll them.

"As we attended bootcamp together I do not need to remind you my physical prowess should I choose to intentionally harm you if you call me that again."

Jim laughed so used to his friend's strange way of speaking. "Did you just say that if I called you that again you'd kick my ass?"

"... In not so many words, yes."

Again Jim laughed and lightly shoved the taller man. A small smirk drifted across Spock's normally stoic features as they entered building designated as Command Headquarters.

\---

_Iowa_

Jim woke hearing the sound of his mother moving pans in the kitchen. He lightly rubbed at his face feeling drool that had escaped his mouth. He felt something press against him and realized someone, his mother most likely, had laid a blanket over him. Jim moved like he was going to sit up but stopped as something hard and white hot shot up from his tail bone to the base of his neck. He shuttered violently swinging his hand back to try to rub the pain away from his lower back. When his fingers touched the hard brace Jim knew he was an idiot. He'd slept in not only his prosthetic but also the brace.

_Stupid. Stupid. Stupid._

"Ma... Mom?" If it were any other time or any other place Jim would swear up one side and down the other that he didn't whimper as he called for his mother to help him.

From the kitchen the sounds of pots and pans being put away stopped as his mother quickly padded into the living room.

"What's wrong honey?"

Jim had his eyes squeezed shut in pain, sweat collected on his forehead. He hadn't even remembered to take any medicine last night since he'd had a beer or two so there was nothing in his system to help relieve the pain. "B-Back. My brace…"

With those few words and the outline of the tight brace against his t-shirt his mother quickly pulled his shirt up and leaned Jim sideways so she could undo the straps and clamps from the brace. When she was done she nimbly worked it off of Jim's back and he breathed a sigh of relief that made his body shiver and spas under her hands.

Winona sat back on the coffee table setting the brace aside after she helped her son back into a sitting position.

"Jim have you been using the crutches or cane even?" She asked lightly.

Jim rolled his eyes under his eyes lids. "Ma, I don't need the crutches or cane. I'm fine."

Winona took a calming breath before speaking. This was a long fighting battle with her hard headed son. "Jimmy please the Doctors said that you need to use something. Your leg isn't strong enough to be walking around without it. That added to your back it’s a miracle you're even up and about but you can't push it. At least try the walker for now and when your back gets stronger you can go without."

Jim took a deep exasperated breath not wanting to snap at his mom. He didn’t need anything to help him walk, he was fine. Pain was good for the body.

"Come on baby we need to take it off now. You know you’re not supposed to sleep with it on." Winona said motioning to Jim’s leg. Jim nods silently and grunts as Winona helps ease his leg up to rest on her lap while she sat on the long coffee table. Laying back, Jim stares at the ceiling as his mother folds back the pant leg of his jeans then pushes them up his leg.

"Jim, sweetheart I'm sorry I know you don't like this."

Jim laid his head back on the couch not wanting to watch his mother take his leg off from just under the knee. He closes his eyes feeling a headache beat dully in the back of his head and wishes he were anywhere but where he was now. He hears the sounds of his mother unclipping and maneuvering the prosthetic from the stump that used to be his lower leg but he doesn’t look.

“What are your plans for today?” Winona tries to take her son’s mind from the process of removing the fake leg. Jim shakes his head silently telling her he had no plans but then stops as Pavel’s words travel back into his mind.

“Pavel said he’s taking me to dinner with him and some of his friends.”

“That’s good. Pavel from the bar, right?” Winona clarifies looking up at Jim. Jim laughs still staring up at the ceiling.

 “Yeah but Pav can’t be any older than nineteen or twenty so it’ll probably be more like me hanging out with a whole bunch of kids.”

Setting the prosthetic leg aside and grabbing a blanket to put over Jim’s lap, Winona shakes her head. “Jimmy don’t get so mighty now you’re no old man, you’re not even twenty four for God’s sake.”

 _Yeah twenty-three and a truck full of military training and no place to put it_ , Jim thinks solemnly but just shrugs at his mother.

Winona gets up off the table and walks to the kitchen. By the time she gets back Jim has nestled further into the blanket and brought the it up to his chin after helping his leg back onto the couch. Winona gets down on her knees with pills in one hand and a glass of water in the other.

“Jimmy,” She whispers and smiles down at her son when he opens his blue eyes. Eyes just like his daddy’s. “Take these sweetheart.” She says handing the medicine to him then the glass.

Jim takes both and shoots back the pills with practiced skill. He then lays back and lets a small tired smile play across his lips. He knows he should be doing something like doing some of his physical therapy or working on something but he can’t bring himself to care. Winona runs her fingers through Jim’s hair relishing in the fact that it’s long enough to do so. Ever since he was eighteen it had been buzzed short but now it’s long and soft and she can brush his away from his eyes and behind his ears like she used to do when he was just a boy.

“Go to sleep my little soldier,” She whispers with a smile. Jim can’t stop the rock that settles in his stomach at his mother calling him a solider but he hides his hurt and nods back to his mom. He can feel his eyes sliding shut again.

“I’ll wake you up in a few hours.”

Then, with the medicine coursing through his veins, Jim feels himself falling asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't claim to be a military export, I've tried to keep everything accurate but I know I've most likely failed somewhere and for that I apologize. I've been watching lots of Military documentaries to get my information as well as speaking to my Master Sergeant Father.  
> Cheers! Till next time :)


	3. Stranger Take Me Away

Jim stared down at the shirts that lay on his bed in disgust with his hands perched on his hips and head shaking subtly. He clicked his tongue looking intently at the seemingly random mesh up of his clothes that covered his mattress from the headboard to the toe of the bed. Leaning over, Jim grabbed at the nearest one; a grey shirt with lettering on the front that he didn't pay attention to. He slid the shirt carefully over his back brace then padded towards the bathroom mirror tucking the shirt in and zipping then buckling his jeans in the process. Jim reached the bathroom, as he had almost five times before, to look at himself.

"Fuck me," he breathed to himself before swiftly turning back to his room pulling off one of his army boot camp shirts and tossing it across the room in disgust because damnit, he wasn't about to wear one of his army shirts.

"It shouldn't be this hard." Jim sighed looking at his entire wardrobe again. He cursed himself for acting like such a damn girl. So what if he was going out with people he'd never met. So what if this was really the first time he'd gone out with other people his age and they weren't a part of his company. So what if his heart beat fast in his chest and his hands were slick and clammy with sweat. These were just people, Pavel's friends and Pavel himself would be there, he would be fine. Everything would be fine.

_Alright Kirk, get yourself together._

"Jim!" Winona's voice rang up from the where she was folding her own clothes in her room. "It's  _five forty-five_  are you dressed yet?" She yelled again. Jim chewed on his already swollen bottom lip letting out a quick breath and cursing himself one more time.

Reaching down blindly Jim grabbed for a simple white undershirt that was tight but not overly so around his slim back brace and tucked it into his jeans. Then he selected a blue striped button up with cuffs already stitched closed mid arm and slid it carefully over his shoulders. When he was done with the minor adjustments to ensure the shirt looked fine and his brace didn't stick out Jim limped to his bathroom to finish grooming himself. His dog tags jingled once and he stuffed them into his shirt then tried to forget about them.

"My, don't you look handsome," Winona smiled with her sweater clutched in tight around herself as she leaned against the door frame of Jim's bathroom. Jim felt his face redden and one quick glance at the mirror confirmed his fear. He gave his mother a quick small smile then turned to the mirror flattening his hair and attempting to shape it. It was way too long, he needed a haircut.

When his hair was flattened Jim looked at himself once again and sighed hard before running both hands through his hair succeeding in messing it back up.

"Jimmy, honey, I really think it's going to be okay," Winona tried to give her son a tentative smile.

"I know Ma, I'm just..." He shook his head.

Winona smiled again and touched her son lightly on the arm. Jim turned to look at her with wide eyes. A part of Winona was sad, angry even that her once outgoing, over outrageous son was reduced to this. Tentative, shy, being scared or spooked at the slightest thing. Limping around the house or even resorting to hopping when his prosthetic leg hurt too bad to wear. Sometimes his back hurt him so much he couldn't even get out of bed or roll over without her help, which he never asked for. The time when she'd come home from a short trip to the grocery store only to find her son on the ground  _crawling_  to the bathroom had just about broken her already fragile heart. Jim hadn't told her all that had happened when the bomb had gone off under his Humvee and he had been dragged away by terrorists, but she knew the basics. The things they told her when he'd come home. The things she'd figured out on her own.

Crowded places were a no-go for her son. Loud noises made him break out in a sweat and shiver slightly. Fireworks or gun shots on the television made him jump and cause his eyes to grow wide. The first time he had fallen when walking to the barn to get something she dropped what she had been doing and ran towards him. Jim had screamed and shook burying his face into the ground. It was the first panic attack Winona had seen but she doubted it really was Jim's first.

_"Don't run towards me. Don't run towards me, I can't help you. I can't help you. Please, I can't help you."_

He'd muttered to himself laying on the ground in a sad attempt to curl into a ball, his back brace painfully forcing his back to stay straight.

And the nightmares... Winona shivered at the thought of them. The screams and the thrashing and her not being able to do a damn thing about it. It made her sick and it made her want to track down the horrible men that did this to her brave boy. He wanted to find them with her Daddy James' old rifle and make them pay.

"How do I look, Ma?" Jim asked bringing Winona from her thoughts. The woman smiled at her boy and touched his cheeks. He really did look handsome.

"Like a prince, baby. You look like a prince." Jim shook his head with a chuckle before taking a hold of his pant leg and fixing his jeans so they covered the ankle of his prosthetic. Winona swatted his hand away after a few minutes of him fiddling. "You can't even tell Jimmy."

Jim nodded once then set his jaw and nodded to himself again. He took a deep breath to settle his nerves then gestured to the hallway.

"Lay on, Macduff."

\---

True to his word Pavel knocked on the Kirk's door at exactly sick o'clock. Winona answered but Jim wasn't far behind her. Pavel looked nice in black slacks and a dark yellow sweater that just screamed  _I'm-trying-to-look-sophisticated_  but the back converse that adorned his feet broke the facade and Jim smiled at him while feeling something loosen in his chest a bit.

"You clean up wery well, Jim," Pavel said holding out his hand to shake.

"You too, Pav," he smiled taking the hand and shaking it firmly.

Winona crossed her arms the way she used to when Jim was younger and went on dates. "You two have fun now but don't be stupid and if anyone ends up in jail their asses are staying there until morning, ya hear?"

Jim rolled his eyes before leaning in to give his mother a kiss on the cheek. "Goodbye Ma, I'll see you in the morning."

"Hmmm," she hummed before turning on Pavel who eyes bulged like a deer in headlights. "You take care of my baby and if he gets hurt it'll be you I'm commin' after." Pavel nodded fast with wide, wide, horror struck eyes. Winona managed for only a second longer before a good natured smile broke her face and she brought the younger man in for a tight hug. Pavel let out a breath and smiled at the laughing woman.

"Don't stay out too late Jimmy you know you have that appointment tomorrow morning at the hospital and physical therapy afterwards so don't drink or eat anything after midnight!" She calls as they walked to the car. Jim grumbles under his breath about how much he hated that stupid doctor that helped him last time. He doesn't think his mother can hear him but then she yells. "I'll look into getting a different doctor for tomorrow. Bye bye Jimmy-Bear!"

Once they were both in the car, Pavel having opened Jim's door once more and Jim eyeing him distastefully, Pavel drove off down the long driveway and out onto the road. Jim tries to stave off his sour mood, he had forgotten about the appointment tomorrow morning. He shakes his head and puts an easy smile on his face.

"Sorry about my mother, she's..." Jim searched for the right word. "Protective."

"Eese okay, my mother is same way. Do not worry, Jimmy-Bear."

The name came so fast from the boy that Jim was dumbstruck for only a minute and Pavel feared he had over stepped his boundary but then Jim laughed. Hard. His eyes teared up and he had to grab at his brace when it began to feel too tight.

"Jesus," he wheezed when he'd finished laughing. He wasn't expecting the younger man to pull that one out so fast. He barely knew the kid but he already liked him. "Please don't tell anyone about that nickname." He smiled.

Pavel kept his eyes on the road but laughed. "My lips are locked."

"You mean sealed," Jim corrected still chuckling.

" _Da_ , sealed. Locked. welcrowd and glued. Whatever strange American term is."

Jim couldn't help his laugh or the way his heart seemed to warm.

"Okay so z'ere will be four people joining us for dinner." Jim nodded leaning back in his seat. "So not too many people but zey are fun group. Don not try to out drink Montgomery Scott because zen we will be dragging your drunk  _zadnica_  home."

It was almost twenty minutes later and an argument over Bon Jovi – " _Nyet_ he is from Russia you must understand all good things come from Mother Russia!" – before they pulled into the parking lot to a good looking bar and grill.

"The Rodenberry?" Jim asks looking up at the place everyone was meeting.

" _Da_ ," Pavel says taking off his seatbelt. "But we call it de  _Roden_ , it is good place." Jim licks his lips feeling his heart start to speed in his chest.

"You feel uncomfortable with the place we leave and find anozer." The young man beside him says suddenly, surprising Jim. "You feel uncomfortable with za people z'ere or with my friends zen you and I leave and find somewhere else to have dinner, just za two of us."

"Pav-"

" _Nyet_ , tonight is for you Jim and we can do whatever you want to do."

Jim has to fight the tears in his eyes but he nods then waits for Pavel to get out of the car to open his door. With Pavel's help Jim eases himself from the car and tries hard not to limp towards the restaurant.

When they enter the building Jim is surprised to see that it's not very crowded. At one side there is a bar with a few patrons sitting sipping on their drinks and on the other side of the room there is wooden tables and comfortable looking booths. A woman passes them with a try of food in her hands and Pavel smiles at her.

"Hey there Pasha the boys are in the back," she gestures over her shoulder to some place in the back of the pub. "Who's your friend?" The woman has bright green eyes and fiery red hair that seems to fly away from her head.

Jim stutters, "I-I'm, uh…"

"This is Jim, Gala, and you are scaring him." Pavel cuts in to which Jim breathes an inaudible sigh of relief.

"Gala!" One of the patrons yells from where he a few other men are sitting at a table drinking beers. The other men have their eyes glued on the television. Jim tenses as the man yells again readying himself for a fight. Or to run away. He's not sure which instinct would kick in this time. But the man and the woman both surprise him when she yells back in a light laughing tone that she'll spit in his food if he hollers across the restaurant one more time. The man laughs and takes another drink of his beer. Distantly the man reminds Jim of one of his men, his friends, Master Sergeant Hendorff with his bald head and thick arms that ripple with muscles. But, the man wasn't Adam Hendorff, he couldn't be because Adam was dead.

Jim has to forcibly jerk himself away from those thoughts before it takes him under and swallows him whole. Tonight wasn't the night to be thinking of the people he lost, the people he couldn't save. Tonight was about meeting Pavel's friends.

 _Keep it steady Kirk_ , Pike's voice sounds warm and fatherly in his head and it makes his fried nerves calm somewhat.

"Well I better get going, I'll be over for orders when Ny gets here," the woman, Gala, turns to Jim brushing his shoulder lightly. "See you later, Cutie." With a wink she's gone.

Jim stays there staring at the curvy woman with too green eyes and red hair. Pavel laughs beside him before waving his hand in front of his face. "Gala is a funny woman. She will flirt all she has but always go home with za same man." He points to the man sitting down, the one who had yelled. "Zat eese her husband, Jim, I would suggest not chasing after zat particular woman."

Pavel shakes his head with a smile before starting to lead Jim to the back of the pub.

Jim runs his hand through his hair and mumbles under his breath, "Well considering that I'm gay you really don't have to worry." But his voice is swept away and eaten up by the music playing over the speakers and the football game on the multiple televisions near the bar.

At the back of the pub sit three men with their heads bent over something. Two men were facing them but the third had his back towards Jim and Pavel as they walked up. Jim felt his palms slicken with sweat but he ignored them and his quick beating heart. He could go this, there was nothing to be afraid of here. As Pavel reached the table the older man with a balding head and a coat that was too big draped over his shoulders looked up.

"Ah! Look who decided to join us. Finally laddie, I was about to eat ma'fingers!" Jim was surprised to hear a Scottish accent come from the man's mouth. "And who's the other laddie ya got with ya?"

Pavel smiled and motioned to Jim. "Dis is Jim Qork, uh," Pavel blushed and it made Jim laugh breaking the uncomfortable feeling that had settled inside of him. "Kirk," Jim smiled extending his hand to the man.

"Hikaru Sulu," the other man facing him reached his hand out. "But people just call me Sulu." Jim nodded at the man.

"I'm Monty Scott but ma'friends call me Scotty," the other man held his hand out and they shook. Jim quickly made his way around the table at Pavel's urging to sit next to the man named Sulu while he sat down beside the third man who seemed to be engrossed in his cell phone. Pavel shouldered him lightly and the man jumped looking at Pavel.

"Sorry, sorry, the damn hospital thinks they can just call me in whenever they want to. I just got scheduled for an apartment tomorrow morning and -"

The man stops and Jim looks up from the menu he had been studying. He lets out a small gasp when he meets the man's eyes. They're brown, no green, no  _gold_. They keep changing from one mesmerizing color to the next. The man's face is heart shaped and framed with brown, almost black hair with tanned skin. The man is... Jim feels his heart flutter in his chest. Were those… where those  _butterflies_  in his stomach? The man was handsome and Jim could feel himself almost gaping at him.

 _Act cool, idiot,_  he scolds himself.

"Jim," he has to clear his throat. "Jim Kirk."

"McCoy, Leonard McCoy," the man says back and  _oh god_  his voice. It's deep and southern and sounds delicious in Jim's ears. His lips are thin at top but thick at the bottom and Jim feels himself almost salivating. He absently notices that the man, Leonard McCoy, hasn't looked away from him either and it makes the jitters inside his stomach flutter more.

"Sorry I'm late!" A female voice says suddenly ripping Jim from his thoughts and his gaze away from the man. The woman who is standing in front of their table is beautiful with long dark hair and dark skin that shins in the dim lights of the pub. A part of Jim wonders how in the Hell Pavel managed to get such attractive looking friends.

"Okay everyone is here now cannae  _please_  order some grub?" Scotty whines as the woman takes her seat.

Pavel stares at Jim for a moment before he starts to introduce the woman. "Jim, this is Ny-"

"Uhura," the woman interrupts and Jim can't help but laugh.

"Strange first name," Jim comments. "Do you have a last name?"

"That is my last name."

"Then do you have an – uh, first name?"

"Maybe."

"Owi give the lad a break Ny."

The woman smiles and looks at her menu. Jim can't help the grin that's stretched across his own face. He can tell that the woman is just messing with him. Uhura takes a seat beside Pavel, across from Jim. Jim sneaks another look down the table at Leonard over his menu. He's surprised to see the man glancing back down at him. Their eyes meet and Jim looks away fast and hides his red face behind the menu.

"So Jim, Pasha tells us you stuck up for him at the bar he works at?" asks Sulu from beside him. Jim likes the man already, the way his voice is calm and he looks at him with a pleasant smile gracing his face. Jim goes to shake his head and tell the man it was really nothing but Sulu continues on, "I work at the university just down the street from the bar. I work with the plants, you know. Seeding and watering and whatnot –"

"Karu don't be so modest," Pavel interrupts before turning to Jim. "He is the lead botanist at the university and he 'es starting up his own flower shop down za street." Sulu blushes and Jim thinks there's a little more to Pavel and Sulu's relationship than what they are letting on.

"Auch I never understand it, the plants," Scotty says from down the table.

Sulu shrugs, "I like plants. They're nice."

"Yeah until you touch one and spontaneously break out in hives or a rash. Then you have the pollen and spores in the air and you're just begging for an EpiPen," Leonard says shaking his head.

"McCoy is the grumpiest doctor you'll ever meet," Uhura flips her hair behind her shoulder and the whole table laughs but Jim just chuckles.

"You're a doctor?" Jim asks and Leonard nods. "Best damn doctor in the East Wing. When I die they'll just put my bones in a robot so I can continue to practice." Leonard is smiling wide and it does something to Jim's chest. "I work in the trauma ward most days and others I'm the head doctor on the floor. Except for tomorrow apparently, I have an appointment with some stubborn patient who doesn't like the on duty doctor."

"He's also very humble." Sulu leans back nursing a beer to his lips. This brings the table to more laughs and Jim also leans back. The conversation is easy going from there as each person is talking or making fun of each other. Jim could tell that they had been friends for a while and he's even surprised to hear Pavel talking so much. Since he'd met the young man Pavel had been a man of little words but now he was talking a mile a minute even peppering his speech with some Russian that makes Sulu's eyes almost twinkle. Uhura seems like a good woman even if she started out a little cold to Jim but the way she holds herself practically screams independence. Jim thinks he likes Scotty the most, outside of Leonard or  _Bones_  as he had taken to calling the handsome man in his head because Leonard? What kind of a name is that? But Scotty is a funny man, Pavel wasn't kidding when he said not to try to out drink him. The man had already downed four beers and Jim thought he could still function without a problem.

Bones was a different story than the others. He grumbles and snaps but smiles and jokes along with the rest of the people. When he smiles he seems to glow in Jim's eyes. He doesn't think he's ever felt this way before. Jim didn't believe in love at first sight but this was a damn close thing.

It's a few hours later and Jim completely forgets about his leg or the aches in his back. He's still on his first beer but he hadn't really wanted to drink tonight since he had physical therapy the next morning but all the same he's relaxed and enjoying the easy going company around him. Their plates have been cleared away by Gala and their bill is waiting to be paid but no one gets up to pay it just yet still engrossed in conversation.

"So Jim, you neva' told us what ya do," Scotty leans forward to see Jim over Sulu. The conversation stills and Jim can feel himself start to panic. Logically he knows it's just a stupid question but his body reacts without him thinking.

"I-I uh," Jim clears his throat. "I was in the army."

_Calm down, Jim. Calm down._

The table quiets down but Jim feels like everyone is screaming.

"What did you do?" Uhura questioned. Jim opened his mouth to stutter out something but Bones cut him off.

"Get off it Ny, you won't even tell the kid your first name he don't got to tell you anything." It was light hearted but there was force behind Bones's words.

 _It's okay Jim, its okay._  Jim told himself. He sat up straighter feeling his brace dig into his back reminding him of what he had forgotten about for the last few hours.

"No it's okay," he said surprising even himself. Pavel looked at him with sad eyes and tried to change the subject but Jim shook his head.

"I'm was a Captain in the army but I'm on leave right now." It wasn't a lie but it also wasn't exactly the truth. Uhura nodded and Scotty reached across Sulu with his hand held out. "Thank you for your service Cap."

Jim blushed hard and didn't look up but took the man's hand. He hated when people thanked him for his service but he understood why they did it and he liked Scotty, he seemed like a good man.

"So Ny, when are we going to meet the mysterious man you've been seeing?" Sulu looks to Uhura taking the attention away from Jim and for that he could have kissed the man. He wouldn't though because he got the feeling Pavel wouldn't like that and besides, he wanted to kiss someone else sitting at the other end of the table.

Uhura smiled shyly. It was the first time Jim had seen her look bashful all night. "Maybe someday. He doesn't like going out much and he's been working a lot on paper over quantum theory. He's trying to get a job at the university as one of the lead researchers in the science department."

\---

An hour later found Jim surrounded by his new friends as they left the restaurant. Jim felt good, he was elated and feeling high on the good food and great people. Bones walked next to him and Jim tried to suppress his limp but he knew the older man had already seen it. He was a doctor, he probably already figured out what was wrong with him. He probably already knew he had broken his back and didn't have a leg. He probably knew everything...

"Why... Uh, why don't I give you my number and we can get coffee sometime." Bones said suddenly surprising Jim from his thoughts. They were walking towards Pavel's car having already said goodbye to the others. Pavel was back talking with Sulu so Jim decided to give them a moment. "I work a lot but there's always breaks and – and –"

"Coffee sounds great, Bones." Jim smiled.

"Bones?"

Jim's heart sank and he talked fast to try to cover his embarrassment. "Sorry, you said they'd put your bones in a robot and, sorry. That's weird uh – sorry."

Bones put his hand up and laid it on Jim's shoulder. Jim feels his shoulder first start to tingle before the sensation runs down his arm and through his chest making him have to suppress a shiver. Bones smiles and Jim could feel other parts of himself getting excited. "No, I like it."

They quickly exchanged numbers and Jim limps the rest of the way to Pavel's car with Bones next to him.

"I'll give you a call tomorrow?" Jim smiles rubbing the back of his head. He silently curses himself because what the  _fuck_? Why was he so awkward all of the sudden?

"Yeah, I'd like that kid." Then Bones opens the door to Pavel's car and Jim was left smiling like an idiot and wondering how he became the bumbling Princess and Bones the chivalrous Prince.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Lay on, Macduff" is a quote from William Shakespeare. "Lay on, Macduff, and damned be him who first cries 'Hold! enough!'"
> 
> Let me know what you're thinking! I'm having a lot of fun with this au.


	4. A Great Man

_Iowa, six years ago_

"You could become a Captain in eight years Jim, do you realize that? Command men and serve your country. Fight for the greater good. Freedom." The man with grey speckled hair looked at Jim with glistening eyes that said he had seen too much but still fought on. A seasoned soldier. "I served under your father. He was a great man," Christopher Pike said after the silence between the two had stretched on for longer than necessary.

Jim snorted, the alcohol on his breath blowing towards the older man.

"A great man? Lot of good that did him."  _Now all he was is another body in a box at Arlington._

Pike nodded and tapped his fingers against the sticky bar table in quick succession. Jim was at the end of his rope and he knew it. The young man wasn't even nineteen but somehow he had managed to not only get into this bar that was a  _twenty one and older_  but also consume enough alcohol to get stupid and start a fight with some of the soldiers he was in charge of while on leave.

The young man who sat in front of him looked lost in all the ways a father should have helped him, but Jim didn't have a father and Chris knew that Winona tried her best but she really couldn't control the teenager either. He was smart, Chris knew that – he had seen the boy's ACT and SAT test scores but whit and smarts meant nothing to a kid who just wanted to drink and curse and raise hell everywhere he went.

Chris looked down at Jim with his head tilted to the side and just stared at him for a minute before he spoke softly. "Your father saved his team by running into that compound. He saved my life and I will go my entire life trying to become a man like him. I'm not saying you should join because you have to help save people. God and Country and all that other bullshit that gets the All-American, apple pie boys running for the recruitment offices. I'm saying you should join because I see your father in you. I see that you want to do more with your life. You want adventure and you want to feel like you did something. I see greatness in you, Jim."

Jim laughed, well snorted really. The alcohol sloshing around in his veins made everything a bit hazy and the lights looked almost too bright. "What do you want with me, man?"

Christopher Pike squared his shoulders and crossed his arms looking down at Jim. "I want you to be better. I dare you to do better than your father."

\---

_Iowa, Present day_

_I'm am an idiot_ , Jim fumes sitting in his chair at the kitchen table by himself the next morning. He's fully clothed but missing his leg that sits at the other side of the room. He was told not to wear it to his appointment, only to bring it with him so the doctors could take a look at how his leg was healing.

 _I'm a dumbass and I'm not going to call Bones._  He decides. Bones doesn't want a guy with no leg who has to wear a back brace all the time. He doesn't want someone who screams himself hoarse without even realizing it while he sleeps.  _He doesn't deserve to be held back by someone like me._

Jim hadn't slept well last night as the evidence of the bags under his eyes are hard to ignore. He feels stupid looking down at his stump of a leg and pushing the bowl of uneaten, soggy cereal away from himself. He did have a really nice time last night but then he'd woke up screaming from a nightmare at one-thirty in the morning and couldn't get back to sleep after. That combined with the fact that he had to go back to that damned hospital in an hour made his temper run hot. He hated hospitals and doctors and people poking him with cold, uncaring fingers. He had had enough of that when he'd first gotten rescued and no, thank you, he didn't want any more people he didn't know touching him.

And Bones worked there, at the hospital. He worked there and Jim could run into him and he couldn't let that happen. He didn't want to see the handsome man with thin lips and a heart shaped face. The man with ever changing eyes that were mesmerizing and - 

 _No! Stop thinking like that. He doesn't want a person like you. How could someone want a person like you?!_  A cold voice screamed in his head and Jim had to put his hot forehead on the table. He really hated the voices in his head sometimes.

Jim could feel a migraine coming on. All he wanted was to take his medicine but the doctors had told him not to take anything before coming, the bastards.

 _Stupid ass fucking doctors_. He didn't need them. He'd already been in hospitals for more than his allotted time in life. They were too cold and too white and smelled too much like antiseptic and reminded him too much of those awful first few weeks after the attack.

"Jimmy, are you ready honey?" Winona called from her room where she was sorting laundry into dirty and clean. Jim said nothing but crossed his arms and leaned back against the chair listening as the old wood creaked with his weight.

 _Stupid. Stupid. Stupid,_ was the mantra that shifted through his head. He had a lot of time to think last night when he should have been sleeping by couldn't. He thought for a time about his men, his friends. He thought about Spock and his cool voice that always used to calm his frayed nerves. He thought of Gary Mitchell and how he always used to flirt with anything that moved. He thought of his men and the way they used to joke around when they weren't on duty and even sometimes when they were while it was all quiet on the front. They'd sit in their Humvees and shoot the shit or talk lightly to each other while on their walks around the villages. They would smile and wave at the locals trying to create friendships and seek out insurgents at the same time.

Jim thought about last night too, how he had clammed up and just about lied to those new people who wanted to be his friends. He'd lied about still being in the army. Not only had he lied but he'd also been scared to tell them and damnit, he shouldn't be scared about telling people he got hurt while overseas.

It wasn't his fault, it wasn't his fault, it wasn't his fault... But it was. It was. He knew it was because Spock and Adam Hendorff and Mitchell and God, everyone. He couldn't do anything. There were so many bullets and people screaming and blood. Blood splattering like in the movies but oh, so much worse. It smelled like blood and death and burnt flesh.

_Medic! Medic! This is Kirk we're being attacked!_

Everywhere. It seemed there were men everywhere and they all had guns.

_Adam! Light their ass up! Go, go, go!_

Blood. Someone's blood covered his left shoulder.

_We gotta get the fuck outta here Spock. We stay here we're dead men!_

But the Humvee never moved no matter how hard Spock punched the gas.

_Mitchell, can you get comms on the vehicle in front of us?_

There was nothing. All around Jim people were screaming but it felt like slow motion. They were all trained for this type of thing, trained for chaos and panic but something seemed to snap as their Humvee was blown to the side. Jim tried to get his men in control and for the most part they were. They were calm as the yelling of orders spat through the comm unit in Jim's ear and he relayed the information. Someone near him screamed as pain exploded in his leg. A shard of something stuck out almost four inches from his knee. The scream was heartbreaking, throat shredding. Maybe it had been from his mouth –

_Why the fuck isn't anyone on comms?!_

"Sweetheart?" A female voice was talking to him but he didn't know who. Whoever they were they had their hands wrapped around either side of his face. The hands, while meant to be soothing, now felt like they were burning his skin. "Jimmy, it's me. It's your mamma, can you hear me, baby?"

Jim blinked once, twice, then flinched violently away from his mother's gentle grip. He could feel wetness drying on his cheeks and his heart beating so hard in his chest his shirt jumped slightly with each pump. He looked around the kitchen trying to shake himself out of the flashback. Ever since he had come home after the attack he had his good days and his bad days and today, today was starting out to be a bad day.

"Sorry Ma," was all he said and Winona nodded looking heart struck with her lip quivering as she stepped away from her shaking son.

\---

Jim's mood hadn't lightened on the drive to the hospital. He was still moody and angry as Winona parked the car in a handicapped parking space and took out the handicap parking pass. While Jim looked away, his mother positioned the pass over the rear view mirror. She then quickly and silently got out of the car and came around to get Jim's wheelchair that they had been given for him to use – though he never actually used it. She swiftly got it out of the trunk and came around to her son's side.

Jim was still in the car but now with his arms crossed and face set in a grim line.

"Sweaty –"

"No." Jim growled. With the window and door closed his voice was muffled but Winona could still hear it fine. "I'm staying in the car. Either take me home or have the Doc look at me here."

Winona placed her hands on her hips and set her jaw to mirror her son. "Jim get out of the car, we're late enough as it is." All around the blond haired woman cars drove and some people walked. They were right in front of the hospital for God sakes! She knew Jim was having one of his days but he needed this appointment to make sure his leg was healing and his back didn't need another surgery, among other things.

"No." Was all Jim said and Winona saw red.

"James Tiberius Kirk, you get out of this car right now. Do you think Spock would have wanted to see you like this – " Winona grabbed her mouth almost punching herself in the face in the process. She hadn't meant to say that, to go anywhere near that subject. Jim whipped his head around, his arms loosening around his body. He stared at his mother for a moment before he broke eye contact. His breathing was fast as his shoulders heaved up and down.

"Baby, I'm sorry," Winona tried but the damage was already done. Jim slowly, carefully opened the door to the car. He swung his body around to put his good leg out first and gripped either side of the car. Winona wanted so bad to bend down to help her poor son but she knew she wasn't wanted right now. Jim groaned as he heaved all of his weight out then slammed into his chair. Winona heard him stifle a groan but pretended not to notice. Jim slammed the car door closed with a shove of his arm while his mother took hold of the wheelchair to roll him inside.

Winona tried to pretend she didn't hear the sniffles or see her son reach up to wipe either one of his eyes while she walked.

By the time they were brought back to the room Jim had simmered down and was now just tightly squeezing his hands together in a nervous habit. He waved his mother away when she tried to help him up from his chair then pushed himself out of the chair the same way he threw himself on the bed. Winona gave her son a questioning glance before he nodded his okay and she kissed his forehead lightly.

"I'll be in the waiting room," she whispered before turning and leaving with a wave. Then Jim sat alone in the medium sized room with white walls that smelled too much like bleach and antiseptic. He hated hospitals. Hated them. The fact that he had just been in the hospital for months certainly wasn't helping anything.

He twirled his thumbs to stop his hands from shaking. A part of him, the part that wasn't angry and the part that wasn't scared, was now sad. He hadn't meant to snap at his mother. He knew Winona did her best and tried to stay calm when Jim freaked out. He hadn't meant to be like that but... It was just hard. Spock was... He was one of his best friends and when…

Jim forced his mind away from his old best friend forcefully. He felt too tired, drained and torn. He wouldn't let himself sink down into that hole just yet. He needed to be alone for that to happen. He needed to force himself to smile at the pompous asshole doctor that was about to walk in and then when this appointment was over he could go home, bury himself in his bed without his stupid brace or irritating prosthetic and cry. He could sob and scream silently to himself as much as he wanted to without the fear of someone hearing him.

He just needed to wait out this appointment.

Jim's hands shook harder, he stared down at them and cursed before shoving them under his legs. He stared at the ground determined to wipe the anguish from his eyes. Lucky, he only had to wait a few minutes longer before the doctor came barging into the room, but Jim didn't look up. The man was mumbling incoherently to himself while looking at a large file he held tight in his hands.

"Sorry I'm late, I don't usually do check –"

The doctor stopped and Jim narrowed his eyes. That voice sounded familiar. It sent small chills down the sides of his arms. His heart puttered warmly in his chest for only a moment before an ice pick was chiseled into it. Jim froze for a second before slowly bringing his eyes up to meet the man standing in front of him.

Bones. It was Bones, with a white lab coat and blue scrubs with hair somewhat disheveled and eyes brown and green and gold. Jim's mouth almost watered at the sight of him until he moved slightly and was reminded of the fact that he had no leg past his knee. With a jerky motion that pulled at his sensitive back, Jim tried to cover his stump with his hands. Bones, or  _Dr. McCoy_  rather, looked at him with large eyes before his face melted into a small smile.

"I didn't think I'd get to see you again for a few days." His voice was like honey trying to melt Jim's defenses, but Jim held strong. He cleared his throat but didn't say anything refusing to meet the man's eyes again. Some tears flooded into his own eyes involuntarily. He didn't want Bones to see this. He didn't want to man to know that he was broken, trashed, an undesirable. He wasn't a whole man because he had lost part of himself.

"I'm sorry," Dr. McCoy said suddenly, looking sheepish. "I usually look at my patient information before coming in but with the late night and I was running late I didn't look to see it was you..."

Jim just nodded and Dr. McCoy ran a hand through his hair. Jim could feel a knot forming in his throat. He didn't want this man to know and now he had everything. Every record of his stay and the attack in Afghanistan. Every little secret. His mental state, his physical condition. Everything.

"Jim," Dr. McCoy said after a few moments of tense silence. "I'm sorry if I upset you or if I got the wrong idea last night. I was meanin' to give you a call in a few hours about lunch –"

"I didn't want you to know," Jim whispered hoarsely lightly slapping the side of his stump where it wasn't tender. "I didn't want anyone to know." With that he looked up at the most gorgeous man he had ever seen with tears clenched tight in his eyes.

Dr. McCoy looked down at the stump that had a pant let clipped up so it didn't drag when he crutched or get in the way when Jim road in his chair and sighed. Jim bit his lip and looked away hating himself more than he had in... Well, he didn't know. Ever since the attack he'd spent a lot of his time hating himself. It was easier to hate himself than to focus on what had actually happened, at least in his mind.

Brown hair now in disarray from the constant motions of his hand going through it, Dr. McCoy leaned over to slide the iPad and file onto his desk. He then smoothly got down on his knee in front of Jim who was sitting on the table. Jim blanked for a second not understanding what was going on or his confused emotions about it. Dr. McCoy lightly touched the side of his stump with knowing fingers, Jim had to force himself not to flinch. This was probably part of the exam he had to do. Nothing special. Nothing new.

"Jim," Dr. McCoy started before he grabbed for Jim's shaking hand and clamped tight to it even when the younger man tried to pull away. "This is nothing. I don't care about this really, this? This is nothing... You're a hero."

Jim shook his head. "I wasn't going to call you," he said partially wanting to anger the Doctor enough so that he could just get this exam over with and he could go home and partially because it was true. "You don't want to have to deal with me. Trust me. You could ask my mom," he gave a small humorless chuckle. "I'm a basket case."

Dr. McCoy stood up off his knees and Jim thought he was finally leaving but almost jumped when he placed two warm hands on either side of his face. The hands were rough but smooth, they felt comforting around his cheeks.

"James T. Kirk, I remember reading about you in the paper. I remember thinking about how such a young man could be so brave. I remember wishing I could've met the man who fought so hard for his country and lost so much and lookie what I get? I get to meet him and ya know what Jim? He's even more beautiful than I thought."

Jim stared at Leonard with wide glistening eyes. He had just met this man not twelve hours ago, he hardly knew him. But the way he spoke and the words he said in that sweet honey voice. The way his hands felt on his face. It felt like he had known him his entire life.

"Can I get to know the man behind the hero?" Leonard asked and Jim's mouth went dry. "Because he seems like the kind of man I would like."

Jim let a few tears fall from his eyes. "I think he might want to get to know you too." He whispered.

It was an hour and a half later when Bones helped wheel Jim out to where Winona was sitting quietly reading a book.

"I'll pick you up tomorrow for dinner then Jim?" Bones winked and turned away before he could see the red blush creeping across Jim's face.

Winona smiled down at her son and gave a wink of her own. "So who was that?"

Jim rolled his eyes,"Mom!"


	5. Captain

 

_Afghanistan_

"How's it going, Cap?" Jim grinned as he walked right into the Captain's office without a knock and a faux salute with the tips of his fingers. He smiled at the man behind the desk before he slid into a chair in front of his captain. The office was modestly furnished with plywood walls adorned with a picture or two of the older captain with his arms around a beautiful woman who smiled up at the camera, both wore different style army fatigues. One Army and the other Navy, yet the love and happiness the two felt for each other seemed to melt from the picture. Theirs was an old love - one that transcended the rivalry of the service. The pictures were simple yet caused the room to feel just that more familiar and less like the place had been constructed with hammers and nails. It certainly wasn't the first time Jim stepped foot in this office yet his eyes were drawn to the photographs with each visit. The ground beneath Jim's feet looked to be newly swept as evidence of the small ridges of sand blanketing the ground. Spock stayed standing at parade rest – the way they were  _supposed_  to stand – beside him as Jim got comfortable in his seat.

Captain Pike raised an eyebrow at Jim before he took off his glasses and rubbed his reddening eyes. The fatigues he wore were clean whereas Jim's were spotted and dirty. Sand crept into the crevices and he was still slightly crumpled from the nap he'd taken before the others awoke him informing him about his meeting with Pike.

"Jim, please come in," Pike said with a slight upwards turn of his lips. He turned to Spock with a nod, "Spock, at ease." Spock relaxed slightly but stayed stoic. Pike let out a quick breath and moved away a few papers on his desk to get to a folder to the right of his hand before putting his glasses back on. The papers across his desk cluttered and made Jim think of reminding the older man about the fact that computers were a thing and all of these papers could be just as easily scanned and filed very neatly and orderly on his desktop. Jim was no perfectionist like Spock but he still felt fidgety staring at the grey peppered hair of the man in front of him who had a messy desk.

"What do you know of Khan Noonien Sign?" Captain Pike looked up at Jim with his head tilted getting right to the point. A shudder ran down Jim's spine, the last tendrils of sleep that had been pulling at his tired body vanished. The lazy smile slipped from his face and he sat up straighter. His face turned to an emotionless mask while his eyes flashed to steal. The perfect solider. Beside him, Spock stiffened slightly. Jim soundlessly cleared his suddenly thick throat.

"I know he's the man who contracted the attack on the orphanage in Kabul because they housed wounded soldiers during raids. The man in charge of the operations in Ghazi with men and women stationed all around the strip who like to use suicide bombs in the middle of crowed streets. He's the reason Forward Operating Base Griffin in Kunduz was attacked... " Jim bit the side of his lip as faces of some of the men he'd known flashed through his mind. He tried to fight it but a sinking feeling filled his gut as he remembered their smiling faces and heard their promises of drinks back in the states when all of this was over. 

Since politics and war go hand-in-hand there had been a time in the middle of Jim's deployment that he'd been ordered to attend a two week conference at the Operating Base. However, because of IED's, booby-trapped roads and general studpidness when it comes to people actually agreeing on the best course of action when it comes to traveling across Afghanistan and whether or not they should break boarders entering into Pakistan and Iran to get to their goal of Farah, it had taken longer than two weeks. The mission – which Jim would not even be involved in – had already been approved by the government and so they needed logistics. The only reason Jim was even there was so that he could represent his unit. It had been frustrating with forty self-righteous soldiers in a room together with dueling ranks and big egos. The two week conference got changed to three weeks then a month when it was all said and done. At first Jim had been pissed, he'd been ordered to the base on the other side of Afghanistan away from Spock, his right hand man and away from his solders for too long, but then he had actually started talking to the other men. 

Charlie Henderson who had an extreme resemblance to a guy Jim had dated in high school had asked him to play cards two weeks into the conference - the day after it was scheduled to end. Jim had been resident at first, paperwork and sleep deprived already from the long days that turned into late nights of men subtly sliding snide remarks to each other in the middle of their otherwise politically correct speeches. But Charlie really did look like Jack Dawning from tenth grade and though the man wasn't Jack some familiarity couldn't hurt. Charlie introduced him to Jodie, a woman in the mechanics division stationed at Griffin. Jodie, five three, hundred and twenty pounds soaking wet and could hold her own in a group of guys. Next came Micheal then Shane and then suddenly their game of cards turned into a round of poker with ten men and a few women and one night became two and suddenly Jim found himself surrounded by people who he could call his friends. When the month was over he had hugged Charlie, Michael, Jodie and patted them on the back with the promise to stay in touch. Turned out Charlie had family in Iowa, they'd made plans to meet up when their tours ended in six months. 

When Jim had gotten back from his two week-turned-month visit to Griffin he had been welcomed with a cheers. Apparently Spock had been a little hard on his men.

When he'd heard that the military base had been struck four days after he'd gotten back to Camp Greyback, his first thought was to take his men out and get their asses to the red zone to help, but he couldn't and wasn't allowed. He had even filed for a transfer but his papers had come back with a  _Denied_  written across the top. 

It took another five days for the names of the confirmed KIA to be released. Jim had been slumped over in his seat with his face pressed into his hand as Archer, the commanding officer of Camp Greyback and ranking officer of Bravo Company 5th Battalion Infantry Division rattled off the names. Spock had been next to him with everyone else under his command standing or sitting around him as they listened to the older man read. The entire camp had been filed into the mess hall, since it was the only place large enough to hold the number of soldiers stationed here. All were in attendance as they stood or sat or slumped but stayed silent and respectful. Jim prayed he wouldn't hear anyone he knew. He wasn't a praying man but right then he prayed and he prayed hard. There were no Atheists in foxholes.

He knew it was selfish of him and borderline unbecoming of an officer to pray for it to be other men's friends, other mother's sons and other people's loved ones.

But then his heart sank as Archer read off one name...

 _Mechanics Specialist First Sergeant Jodie Forrester_.

Then another name...

_Private First Class Shane Savich._

Just when Jim thought it was over Archer read off one more name and at that moment Jim understood what it was like to feel like he was paralyzed. He couldn't move, felt like he couldn't breathe.

_Command Sergeant Charlie Henderson._

Jim couldn't feel his hands as they were gently pulled away from his face. He hadn't even noticed he'd been shaking until Spock placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed with that inhuman strength he seemed to have at odd times. The list was still being read as someone from the back gave a sob and Jim looked over to see it was one of his men who was shaking his head and muttering.

"No... No..."

It was then that he noticed all around there were tears in eyes and faces red with sadness or anger or both. Everyone had anger even if they didn't know any of the people killed. They had anger because when they joined the service they were taught that they were no longer individuals, they were now a team - a family. Out there when bullets are flying and orders are being yelled over comm units it was not about saving yourself. It is about saving the guy next to you.

When the list was finally done being read the room was silent other than the small sniffs or the rustle of movement until Archer began to speak.

"Forward Operating Base Griffin suffered thirty-eight KIA with twenty-seven of those being American. There were also forty-nine others wounded... Let's have a prayer, Gents."

And Jim had bowed his head thinking about those people who would never make it home...

After the attack there'd been Al-Qaeda and Taliban leaders stepping forward claiming they were the ones who orchestrated the attack on the base. Everyone wanted to take credit for killing the soldiers that were on their land. All of the insurgents wanted to claim that it was them who got out of their murder holes and attacked the enemy, they wanted the honor of saying they slipped passed the Allied Forces defenses and killed. It made Jim sick to his stomach and if he threw up a few times after the names were read and they were dismissed well then, he wasn't the only one. Spock was the only one who noticed the sickly pallor of his complexion.

It took a few days before it was proven that the man – if he was even a man at all or a group of people, some speculated it was the name of tightly knit Taliban higher ups – named Khan who ordered the attack.

Pike looked at Jim pulling him from his memories. The older man then looked back down at his paperwork. Spock took a step forward.

"If I may Captain, I believe Khan is also responsible for the attacks on several Armed Forces bases along with leading the charge on raids into civilian villages and the massacre of children and woman alike. He is high in the leadership and was a trusted man in Saddam Hussein rein at the beginning of the war. However now he is a criminal and a wanted man."

"That's right..." Pike nodded before he stood up and folded his arms towering over Jim, "And we know where he is."

Letting out a harsh breath Jim stood suddenly with his heart pounding and the rush of blood filling his ears. The chair he had been sitting in was flung back scraping the ground. "What – sir – what?"

"Please clarify," Spock, always the rational mind, asked by Jim's side. Pike billowed out a few papers and turned some around to show the men.

"Are either of you familiar with Section 31?" Both younger men shook their heads. Pike nodded, "I didn't think so..." He cleared his throat. "The following conversation is not to leave this room under direct orders of the secretary of war. Section 31 is a mixture of the best and worst the military has to offer. It's the Black Ops and the Greek Berets and the best of the best. Intelligence and advanced weaponry all mixed together to form a section of the military so secretive and well-kept that they almost don't exist." Jim shivered, what the hell were his orders are going to be? Pike continued, "There's been an ongoing operation to get the whereabouts of Khan and they have. They've gathered enough information and enough intelligence to know exactly where the man is now."

"So what's the problem?" Jim questioned when Pike was silent for a moment.

"The problem is General Archer and Admiral Marcus. The man running the Khan case of 31, is Marcus and Marcus wants Khan dead –"

"What's the problem with that?" Jim spat interrupting his commanding officer with malice in his voice. Khan was the reason his friends were dead.

Pike looked at him with hard eyes. "The problem, Kirk, is that Archer believes the man deserves more than a quick death. He deserves to pay for his crimes." Spock eyed Jim then turned back to Pike. Pike handed Jim a thick file that was almost bulging at the seams with papers. Jim took it weighing heavily in his hands. "That's where we come in. We've been ordered by General Archer to apprehend Khan and bring him back to the states for trial before Marcus's men can come in and go through with their plan of assassination."

A small part of Jim wanted to agree with Marcus and just shoot the bastard on sight. He was angry, he'd admit it. That man was the reason innocent people were dead. But then the other part of him, the rational soldier who had been trained to put his feelings on the back burner to get his mission done and his soldiers home knew bringing the man to justice to see trial was the best and smartest option. It was the right thing to do.

Spock shifted next to him, "Why us, sir? Why not the men from Section 31? Certainly there are men qualified to undertake a mission of this severity." Pike nodded the question was valid.

"Well Spock, that's another problem. Right now the brass is focused on ending the war, we got Hussein, we got Bin Laden and we've flushed out most of the major heads of the Taliban. It's late in the war and while there's a call for blood there's even more people who just want the war to end and get home. Taking out Khan could spark another round of fighting for the War on Terror and if the public found out that about it it would cause outrage. There'd be riots in the streets and people would be angry. Ever since the Snowden scandal there are hard eyes on Section 31 and even harder eyes on the president. This all has to be hush-hush and it would be hard to transport people and vehicles to right where we are without the general public finding out, what with all the damn news reporters sniffing around this country. The point is, this is our mission. To find and arrest Khan and bring him to trial."

"You said you knew where he is?" Jim asked. Pike motioned with his head towards the papers.

"He's is hiding in one of the villages near the Naheem Province only thirty kilometers from here."

Spock arched an eye brow, "Why would he risk being so close to a known military camp?"

"He's a cocky bastard." Pikes eyes crinkled at the sides. Jim shook his head looking down at the folder in his hands. Pike placed his hands behind his back for a few seconds before he sat down going over a few more documents. Jim didn't know why but for some reason he felt a bad taste in his mouth. He could believe that this Khan guy could think himself invincible and stray as close to a military camp as he wished but Jim thought there was more to it than that. It just didn't sit right.

"Your orders are to gather the men you think best to fit this mission and have them ready to go by  _twenty-three-hundred_ , three days from now. This will be a night op."

"Roger. How many men, sir?" Jim questioned.

"Twelve. You'll be given three Humvees. I want you and Spock here tomorrow morning at  _oh-eight-hundred_ and we'll go over the finer details. No one outside of your chosen men are to know of this mission. This is top secret and it'll need to remain that way if we are to have any chance of getting this guy." Jim nodded feeling this meeting draw to a close. He squared his shoulders feeling Spock do the same beside him and waited to be dismissed.

"One more thing before you go, Jim," Pike stood up from his desk with a small smile and picked up a box from one of his drawers. "These came for you." He said handing the black box to Jim who stood stiffly, if not a bit awestruck. Beside him, Spock relaxed slightly as a smile twitched across his features.

"Open it." The older man instructed to which Jim did. He pried open the black box to see two sets of captain's bars staring up at him with all their gleam and just a hint of glory.

"Captain..." Jim looked up from the box and over to the man who had lit the fire under his rebellious ass and gotten him into the Army. Captain Pike dipped his head with a glint in his eyes. "I put your name in a few weeks ago. It's your turn to lead the men, Jim. Fully lead them as a Captain."

"But-but what about you?"

"I'm going home," he said simply and with a look of serenity on his face. "Back to the states to see Number One, my tour is about over and I think she'd enjoy the news that I won't be taking another."

Spock tilted his head, his eyebrows furrowing "Are you retiring, Captain Pike?"

Pike nodded, his smile turning sad, "I'm an old man, Spock. I was a part of the invasion of Panama and served in the Gulf and Bosnian wars. I've done my part in Operation Enduring Freedom and Iraqi Freedom. This is my fourth tour in this war and going on thirty-five years in the service. I think it's about time to settle down." Pike chucked, "I haven't been home since Jesus was a corporal." Jim smiled at the old term. Now that he really looked at the man Jim could see the graying hairs branching out from his temples and wrinkles that were lightly carved just to the sides of his eyes and forehead. In all honesty a man like Pike shouldn't even have been deployed as many times as he had but Pike was a stubborn old bastard. He went where the fighting was, where his men were. If his men were in trouble be bailed them out with air strikes or the call for heavy artillery assistance. Pike was the man whom everyone respected and no one talked back to. He was a man who had earned his title and more.

And Jim wanted to be just like him.

In all honesty Christopher Pike should have been pushing papers somewhere behind a desk with a different title coming before his name. Something like  _Major_  or  _General_  or, hell even  _President_  if they guy really wanted to. But all those names came with too much politics and not much action so he stayed and did his duty, Jim respected the man even more for it.

"Do you understand what you men need to do?" Spock and Jim both gave a curt nod, Jim closed the box deftly. "Good then get ready boys. Khan has killed too many soldiers and too many civilians. I don't care what we have to do, it's time to go get this son-of-a-bitch." Spock blinked at the word usage but a small part of him felt an inkling of pride and determination blossom and bloom in his chest.

"Hooah," Jim grunted.  _Heard, Understood and Acknowledged._

Captain Pike saluted, "Dismissed."

\---

The sun was turning a deep shade of oranges and reds throwing it's long rays across the desert sand when Jim and Spock exited Captain Pikes office – after the older man had insisted on pinning his Captain's bars to his chest and giving him a hard hand shake. Jim had just opened his mouth to talk to Spock about the feeling he had in the pit of his stomach when he noticed someone waiting for them at the entrance to the building. "Sir!" Jim heard the sharp bellow next to him as he exited the building and smiled looking over at the young soldier who had come in earlier to his room to get his papers and was still, unfortunately, wearing his boot camp shorts. From a ways away he could hear the sounds of men yelling and laughing, Jim looked over seeing two men on the ground wrestling in the sand while others stood around them. Jim smiled at the boy trying to hold back the flash of annoyance that must've shown on his face for a second before he suppressed it. He was just so damn tired.

"How can I help you Corporal Meede?"

The younger man tilted his head in confusion, "I was told to report to you, Lieuten – uh, Captain, sorry. Captain." Jim looked at the kid who looked at his stripes with awe.

"And why would you need to report to me at…" Jim looked down at the inside of his wrist where his black watch faced. "Twenty-one-hundred?"

"Uh…" Meede stampered. Spock crossed his hands behind his back. "I was just told to stand here and wait for you, Captain." With a turn of his head and a run of fingers through his hair, Jim looked down at the younger soldier.

"You were told to just stand here." He clarified.

"Yes, Captain."

"And how long have you been standing here?" He wanted to add,  _wearing your boot camp shorts_  but he held his tongue.

"For a half an hour, Captain," Meede nodded his head to stamp his point. Jim tried not to laugh.

"A half an hour," he affirmed once more.

"Yes, Captain."

"And you've just stood here?"

"Roger, Captain."

"What if I had left command using the other door?" He didn't mean to keep the kid going really he didn't but after a three day mission with high intensity and tense nerves then being told he was to lead a mission to arrest the man responsible for the attack on Griffin, Jim just needed to have a bit of fun. Meede opened his mouth then closed it.

"I-I didn't think about that, Captain." Beside him, Spock lightly brushed his shoulder signaling that it was time to go. Meede looked at Jim meekly. "Sorry, Captain."

"I know my rank, Corporal," Jim said lightly. "You don't have to keep saying it."

Jim swore under his breath running a hand over his forehead and looking at the kid, damn Archer for not trusting him to get his reports in on time. Meede glanced at the thick folder in Jim's hands. "I could look over that and file it if you need me –"

"No." Jim snapped suddenly making the boy jump. He clutched the folder tighter to his chest knowing the contents were for his eyes only. He cleared his throat and tried again. "I mean no Corporal, I have everything handled for the night. You're free to go. Get some dinner and maybe think about changing into some cargo pants." At the look of confusion from the boy Jim looked around and coughed before continuing, "Because it'll start getting cold now that the sun's going down."

Meede seemed to understand that logic so he nodded and brought his hand up for a snappy salute, "Good evening Cap – uh, Sir." He finished with a flush before walking off at a quick pace. Spock looked to Jim and Jim to Spock before Spock rose and another one of his damned eye brows of doom and Jim shook his head not understanding the exchange between the kid and him.

"Corporal Lance Meede seems to have taken a liking to you." Jim crossed his arms hearing the folder crunch until he uncrossed them. He then rolled his eyes and turned away towards their living area and where his warm rack was just waiting for him to take a good night's sleep. Damn was he tired. Spock fell into step beside him. "Perhaps you should offer your autograph at your next meeting."

The blonde haired man laughed. "Hey, don't make fun of Boot-Camp-Shorts Guy alright? He's probably fresh out from the states."

"An FNG."

That made Jim stop in his tracks. He turned to face his stone faced friend. "Did you just use the acronym for Fucking New Guy, Spock?"

"As you and the others use the term to refer to individuals new to the country I felt it was an apt assessment." That made Jim almost double over as a barking laugh took hold of him. His eyes watered and face turned red. After a moment or two he sobered and wiped at his eyes before the tears could run down his face. He patted his friend on the shoulder turning away. "Never change Mister Spock. Never change."

Spock simple gave him a long suffering look and began walking towards their home away from home. Jim gave off a giggle now and then but the dark haired man ignored it in favor of watching the struggling men on the ground a ways in front of them. It was the same men who were wrestling earlier with no helmets nor Kevlar on, Spock could see it had been discarded along with their rifles to the side. Now it seemed like a group of men had stopped to watch as a larger soldier pinned down a smaller one with the smaller man's hands jerked back roughly as the larger man had all of his weight on him. Jim also looked over to the men as he heard the younger man struggle.

"Where are you trying to go?" The bigger soldier asked taking his hands off of the still struggling man below him yet having enough weight on him to succeed in pinning him to the ground. Jim stopped just outside the ring of laughing men and crossed his arms ignoring the crinkle of his papers. Spock, because he didn't leave Jim's side for fear the blonde haired man would do something stupid without him there to placate him, also stopped and stared at the two on the ground

"Go ahead. Go. Go. Do what you want. Try to get up." He looked down at the man who jerked his hands hard but continued to stay where he was. He almost resembled a turtles stuck on his back. The younger man gave a frustrated growl while the other soldier laughed pressing his face down in the sand. Jim recognized the bigger man, a scowl overtook his face. Quince, of course it was Quince. The large man with beefy hands and what seemed to be a permanent chip on his shoulder had to be the guy ruffing up one of the new soldiers. Jim knew Quince from training, this guy was an asshole.

"What do you think, Riley, should I embarrass you some'mo?" Quince, a Sergeant though Jim really didn't know how he had even advanced that far, asked the kid on the ground grabbing at the back of his head. The guy, Jim realized with a shock, was Kevin Riley. Private Riley had been on the last mission with Jim as his gunner. He was a good soldier. He did what he was told when he was told to do it.

Most of the time.

Jim was almost positive he had ordered the private to get some rack time in as soon as the mission wrapped up hours ago.

"Come on you sand baggin' son of a bitch, get your lazy ass up so I can knock you down again!" The bigger man yelled not giving Riley any slack to get back up. Finally Jim had had enough. With a swift hand he slammed his folder into Spock's chest where the other man caught it easily then Jim walked briskly over to the big Sergeant. Jim stooped down until he was eye level with Quince who still had the kid on his front with his face pressed into the hot sand.

"Hey come on don't be a shit bird," He blond haired man muttered quietly getting real close to the other soldiers face. He didn't need to yell, experience told him the quiet mutter of harsh words worked just as well as a loud dress down in front of the men. "Let the guy up and run another drill so he can see where he went wrong and you can stop looking like an asshole jackass and turn into a real fucking soldier. We're all in this goat fuck country together so either wise up or I'll see to it you'll be on shit burning duty for a month. Understood, Sergeant?"

The man glared up at him with a red face and barely suppressed anger making his body shake. Jim knew that without his rank displayed on his fatigues Quince would have already started fighting with fists flying and teeth baring. The two had gone at it a few times before back when they were both privates and it was encouraged to show off your strength in boot camp. But, as it was he was an officer and a respected one at that. Unbeknownst to Jim, Spock had saddled up to just beyond his right shoulder with his body taunt ready for a fight though he was far enough back that he wouldn't butt in if he wasn't needed. All around them other soldiers had begun to stop and stare, some even stepping closer also bristling for a fight and ready to choose a side or break it up before an CO should happen by and they'd all be put on Shit Duty. Most of the men recognized Jim Kirk from his blonde head and lean body crouched close and whispering to the sergeant who had the other clearly younger soldier pinned to the ground.

The man came close to Jim's face. "You think because you're a Captain now you're hot shit? Well listen here you-"

"Whoa, whoa, princess," Jim forced himself to grin and his body to relax. Nonchalance. "I would simmer down there soldier before you say something that you're gonna regret." With a few more whispers back and forth between the two soldiers Jim patted the man on the back and got to his feet. The sergeant snarled at him but let Riley go then stalked away with a dark cloud hovering above him.

"Alright shows over! Get the fuck outta here," Jim yelled at the soldiers who were standing around. The men were just as quickly scattered seeing the determined look in the young captain's eye.

"You good Kevin?" Jim asked helping the man to his feet.

"Yes sir," he nodded.

"If that guy gives you any more problems make sure you come to me or," Jim jammed his thumb behind himself at Spock without looking back, "or talk to that scary looking guy behind me and we'll take care of it, got it?"

"Roger."

"Good."Jim turned his back clearly done with the intervention and ready to be on with his day which he hoped would consist of superman jumping up onto his rack and falling asleep until his next tour.

"That was very-" Spoke began but Jim just waved him off with the side of his hand. Spock nodded, "Very well..." He then stayed quiet for a few long minutes as the pair made their way to their small home away from home. Before they entered their plywood shipping containers turned quarters the slightly taller man placed a hand on Jim's shoulder forcing him to a stop and turning him around then placing the folder back into Jim's hands. "I look forward to finally being justified when I refer to you as my Captain, Jim." With that he opened the door and disappeared inside greeting the yells of  _hello!_  from inside coming from their roommates Mitchell and Hendorff.

Jim stood outside feeling a smile tug at his lips momentarily forgetting about the cold of the night and the sand in his boots. He let himself feel the satisfaction of finally reaching his goal to not become like his father but stand as tall as his father had once stood with his own Captain's bars gleaming off his chest. He didn't stand there long however. He had a lot of work to do if they were to go outside the wire in three days. He needed to set up a team and read the intelligence packet Pike had given him. If he wanted to finally get Khan then he had a lot of work to do. Silently, Jim opened the door hearing the  _pop, pop, pop_  of gunfire out in the distance of Camp Greyback but ignoring it as he entered into his living area.

\---

_Iowa_

Jim stared blankly at the ceiling watching as the fan above him blew warm air lazily down on his body. He'd just woken up from his nap and could still feel sleep tugging at him to come back. He slowly looked over at the digital alarm next to his bed and frowned. It was past five o'clock in the afternoon, he'd been asleep for longer than he'd wanted to. Jim was surprised to not feel the regular irritation at the thought of lying in bed for most of the day. Maybe it was the extra meds Bones had given him to help with the discomfort he felt while he slept. He shifted in his bed noticing that someone had covered him up – his mother most likely. She'd all but ordered him to bed as soon as they'd gotten back from the hospital and Jim had been all too accepting feeling exhausted after his appointment earlier that day. Across the room he could see his leg where it sat against the wall looking out of place. Bones had said he shouldn't wear the prosthetic for a few days because the back of his knee wasn't looking quite right and the less strain on it the better.

It was strange, at times he felt like he could still feel his leg. Sometimes he felt his toes run against one another or his calf itch. On occasion he even felt pain coming from his right ankle that wasn't there. It was a disconcerting feeling pain from a limb that wasn't even there. But, it was getting better. He was getting better every day.

At least his body was anyways.

Jim shook his head not wanting to think about the dream he had just had. It hadn't been anything bad, surprisingly. He hadn't dreamed about the attack. His dream had been oddly peaceful, in fact. Peaceful but heartbreaking all the same.

He had dreamed that he was in his Humvee with Spock driving and him in the command seat to the right. It was strange because even in dream world Jim knew that Spock drove, he was always in the driver's seat even though he was smart enough and skilled enough to lead his own missions without Jim. The man was lethal grace when he drove maneuvering the largest of vehicles with precision and almost asinine perfection. They always rode in the same Humvee, it was theirs by mutual agreement. There was nothing really substantial about the vehicle, it was just a regular attack and transport Humvee but they'd still named it.  _Enterprise_ , because of some joke Jim had said that Spock had rolled his eyes at about them being enterprising young men. The gunner and communications positions would change people around but it was always Spock in the drivers seat and Jim in command. In his dream Spock was driving and he looked as peaceful and blank faced as Jim could ever remember. Neither of them had said a thing as they drove through what looked like a great desert. It was peaceful, the sun wasn't too hot and the truck didn't kick up any dirt. There was no threat, just the two of them who had been friends for so long sitting quietly enjoying the ride...

Jim felt tears prickle his eyes and run down the side of his face.

_Don't think about him, Jim. Don't think about Spock._

But he did. He did want to think about the man who had saved his life countless times. The man he hated at the beginning of boot camp but had grown to love like a brother. He wanted to think about his best friend.

 _But he's dead. Spock is dead. Killed in action..._  The voice in his head tormented him. Jim buried his face into his pillow and let a quiet sob escape him.  _I should have known it was a trap. Why didn't I figure it out sooner?_

" _Spock! Spock we gotta get out of here, it's a trap. Adam, eyes out! Gary get someone on comms_."

" _Sir_ –" Hendorff, behind the gun and confused, startled by Jim's outburst and too slow to react. The  _pop, pop, pop_  of gun fire sounded hitting somewhere too close kicking up dirt and rocks. Hendorff knelt down up in the gun torrent and let loose a warning round. "Where the fuck did that come from?"

Jim's heart raced as he tried to get ahold of the vehicle in front of them using his radio but it wasn't working. They needed to turn around. They needed to get out of here before this turned into a hot zone and they would be stuck. They were going to get choked on this small road. Spock, eyes ablaze, twisted to Jim. " _Captain_ – "

That's when the first bomb went off sending the vehicle in front of them up and over on itself in a fiery somersault of carnage and blood.

"Jimmy baby are you–" a voice startled Jim making him jerk roughly into a sitting position. His body was taunt waiting for an attack. Winona quickly put her hands up showing that she wasn't a threat – something she had to do far too often.

"It's alright Jim it's just me. It's just your mom."

Breathing quickly Jim blinked the tears from his eyes feeling his body shake but relax. He closed his eyes pressing the heal of his hand into his face. "Sorry ma."

"Nonsense," Winona shushed walking slowly to her son's bed. "Nothing to be sorry for, baby. Did you have another dream?"

"It would be weird if I didn't… but this one was different, I wasn't scared." Winona's eyes grew wide. "It was just me and Spock driving around inside the  _Enterprise_. We weren't even talking just sitting and looking out the window. It was… peaceful."

Winona smiled sadly down at her son before stretching herself slowly out beside him. She lay her head back against the wall next to her son then slowly – so he could see what she was doing – brought her hand up to rest on his chest. Jim sat still for a moment before he scooted over just enough to lay his head on his mother's stomach and curl into her side like he used to do when he was a child and had a nightmare. Winona ran her hand through his longer than usual hair. She started humming and Jim's eyes closed almost on their own. He wasn't tired, or at least not tired enough to fall asleep again after sleeping for so long but his body felt heavy and his head was warm where it was cradled on her stomach. Her finger nails lightly caressed his scalp making shivers run down his spine. His mother's humming turned into a soft tune that lulled Jim into a kind of peaceful limbo between sleep and wakefulness.

" _And I think to myself, what a wonderful world…_ "


End file.
